Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind
by STEEN aka Christine
Summary: A Fan Fic based on J. Evanovich's Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter extraordinaire.
1. CEotCK Story Intro Summary

_**A Fan Fic based on J. Evanovich's Stephanie Plum, bounty hunter extraordinaire.**_

_**A/N:Contains: Stephanie and a merry man Pairing. (BTW that can include Ranger..see how DEVIOUS I am...insert evil laugh here)**_

**Short Story Intro:**

Life sure hasn't been easy since Stephanie Plum became a bounty hunter, but it has been **_interesting_** in every sense of the word.

Mysteries, drag queens, and _Three Stooges_ routines aside... Stephanie loves her job, if not the humiliation that seems to haunt her like a klutzy shadow. She knows she can deal with anything as long as Ranger, man of mystery, is still at her beck and..break-in call. It has it's benefits.

But now that Ranger has gone 'in the wind' once again, what will Stephanie do with her life, besides invest money in a more powerful shower massager? Only someone with celestial powers...or a close connection to Dr. Phil can answer that question.

Will Stephanie muck her way through her days without falling on her face?

Or will she have yet another of _many_ CLOSE ENCOUNTERS OF THE CONCRETE KIND?


	2. CEotCK Chapter 01 thru 04

Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind

By FlyingKit aka Christine

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

(Created and posted beginning 1/17/04)

**Chapter 1:**

**THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!**

OoooOOOOooo… Pretty.

What are those bright shiny things? Mmmm. Stars. Definitely stars. Gosh, they sure are pretty! See! They even swirl around a little when you see them, besides just twinkle. Maybe I just discovered a new star! Heck! Maybe a new solar system!

**THWACK! THWACK!**

I wonder how you get to patent your name on them. I mean, I heard on that Discovery Channel on cable, where if you discover a star you have to apply to somewhere to name it. Geez, this is so cool. Let me think. Plumerinta… No. Doesn't have the right ring to it. Maybe…Stephina. Or maybe a variation on Babe. Yeah! That's better….Wait. Something is missing from this picture. It isn't night time.

I mean, I don't think it is. **SHIT!**

"UNghhhhhh…"

Double shit! What was that sound! Damn. I think it's me. Then it hit me with the force of a stampede at a Macy's shoe sale.

I had been chasing that Rat-Fink, Joey Larone, down the street. Legs pumping, arms flailing, snot running, (Damn I need to get into better shape), when he jumped a chain link fence. I remember the cursing as I heaved myself over it after him. I recall, vaguely, the downward motion my head took toward the ground when I landed. Wait… one… MINUTE.

I didn't land on my head.

Shit! JOEY! He had knocked me over when I landed and round-housed me_! **HIT ME! OVER THE HEAD! With my own PURSE!**_Arghhh! That'll teach me to leave my gun in there while trying to apprehend some nut-job FTA. Even if all he did was get caught for solicitation.

I slowly cracked my left eye and peered out at the world around me at eyelevel, which in this case was ground level. Hmmm. Dirty asphalt, dirty asphalt, scampering rat-vermin, garbage, and EWWWW! A used condom. Someone out there was happy and I was nauseous. Well, No Joey. And SHIT! No purse. That WEASEL stole my purse after beating me with it!

I closed my peeper. No good dwelling on the purse. I took a deep breath and decided to take stock. Looks like I won't be going jogging with Ranger in the wee hours of the morn any time soon. There is a God! I hate exercising! I hate everything about it! Okay, that was a lie. I don't hate the beefy man that enforces my healthy routine. In fact the thought of all those Ranger muscles bunching in his arms when he runs, his pectorals taunt, and thighs clenching….wait that's me!

WOAH! Down girl! Get a grip! You were just assaulted! Hormone rumination and Ranger drooling can continue at a later date when, say, my right ankle isn't killing me…and the evil little elves stop trying to mine diamonds in my pounding head. Shoot I must have sprained it. My ankle, not the head. Although that could be up for debate.

I slowly regained control of the situation and tried pushing myself up with my forearms.

**THWACK!**

Okay that time I hit myself. Well, technically the asphalt of the alley did.

"Ughhhhnnnthhhh…" I groaned .There is a reason I don't do push-ups on a regular basis. No upper body strength. At least not after being pistol-whipped. Or should I say purse-whipped. Damn. I am never going to live this down if any one finds out. That gun in the purse sure packed a wallop. Well, the gun…a can of mace, lip gloss, fuzzy roll of Lifesavers, extra handcuffs, can of hairspray (jumbo size…can't be too careful in the Jersey autumn wind) and a two-pack of gum were all in there. Somehow I don't think it was the Big Red that gave me the concussion, though.

That Little S.O…B..ut wait! I digress. Tracking the big worm, Joey, and ripping off his little worm, will come later. Now I must concentrate on getting up. This time I tried rolling over.

**CRUNCH!**

I felt a tug and I yelped in pain. I think I just found my handcuffs. The Worm had secured my busted ankle to the chain link fence with my nifty prison bracelets. Shit. NOW what do I do! I have no key. Rat-Fink stole that too. At least he was consistent in his thievery.

Hold the phone! What was that crunching sound? I don't think handcuffs crunch. I swung my bleary eyes over to the right, my shoulder pressed into the ground as I tried to roll a bit more to glance in the direction of the crunching sound.

"Well, Fffffffuck-Me."

Looks like using my cell was out. There would be no call to the Lone Ranger for backup for this Tonto in the near future. The little bits of electronics were spread about on the ground in tatters. Beyond salvage. I groaned. A bit like my sanity. Guess my attempted push up damaged more than my spirits.

"Brilliant. Just brilliant, Einstein." I murmured to myself. I wish I could think of some way out of this mess.

I lay with my forehead pitted against macadam and thought furiously. I must have pushed myself too hard by doing that and passed out. When I opened my eyes now, the sun was noticeably lower down in the sky. Almost night. At this rate I would be seeing real stars and not the Looney Tune variety.

"DAMN BOMBSHELL!"

Crap! I blinked rapidly and I prayed fervently that it was actually Tank's voice I heard and not some figment of my overtaxed little pea of a brain. I glanced over wearily and saw Mount Tank come into view. Wait. Were there twin peaks that both resemble Tank there? Yup. Damn. Definitely a concussion if there was double vision.

"BOMBSHELL, ANSWER ME! Are you okay? Say something! Anything!"

Looks like Robin to the rescue. I just wonder what I was going to have to pay Boy-Wonder to keep his ever lovin' mouth shut about this escapade. I'm sure if he's anything like Ranger, he'll think of something creative. Holy Mother! I can't think like that! I don't need any more "deals" right now. The last one left me blurry, heart broken (which I am NOT apt to admit), and still confused and horny. Damn Men! They could all be pigs sometimes. Only thinking of ruttin' around in the mud instead of the important stuff. Like I can talk. I am just a walking hormone. Even after the deal over DeCooch, when Ranger made himself scarce concluding the 'No price/this-love-doesn't-come-with-a-ring' conversation, I still drooled over his luscious mocha latte-skinned bod. Sometimes life just isn't fair.

Uh-oh. Looks like Tank is still talkin'.

"…don't come to soon, I'll have to call Ranger. And I don't think any of us wants that. Unn-uhh. No way-no how. Not the way you are lookin' now. Damn, where is that ambulance! I called them like 15 minutes ago!"

Dang. Looks like I did that lose-track-of-time-and-space- thing-y. Again.

Tank was clutching a cell phone in his hand and it looked about ready to fold in upon itself from the white knuckled pressure he was exerting on it.

"T-t-tannnk?" I managed to mumble from around the dozen or so marbles in my mouth.

"Oh Gawd! Yeah. I'm here Bombshell. You finally comin' around?"

"Yuuuppp. Shootttt. My throat hurtssss…" I gasped.

"Well, it should considering the necklace you are wearing."

"Huuhhh?"

"Steph, who tried to strangle you?"

"Whhhaaat!" I shouted. Or at least I would have shouted it if I was able to around the damn marbles. I think it came out more like 'whhhaa'.

"Steph! Concentrate. What happened? Nevermind. Scratch that. You might make things worse by talking right now."

"Geeee, thankksss Tank." I think even he got the angry sarcasm in that gasped witty repartee.

"Tell me later at the hospital. Promise to tell me then."

"'kayyy." I marbled.

"Damn Squad! Where are they!"

"Whyy yooou not take meeeee, nowwww..." I tried to get across the urgency of my question. It was urgent since I figured out that nut not only robbed and battered me after the assault but evidently tried to kill me too. Huh. Wonder if this means Larone and I aren't pals anymore. Perish the thought.

"Can't take the chance in movin' ya yet, Bombshell. I don't think you realize how twisted up your back is right now. You may have damaged your spine. The ambulance crew should be able to immobilize you properly. I don't have the tools. Hang on. They should be here soon. Just hang on."

Just then I heard sirens approaching closer to where we lay. Well, where I lay. Tank was crouching. I heard the squeal of brakes and murmurs above me…mere snippets of conversation.

"How long she been like this…. You found her just like this and didn't move her, right!" the EMT shouted at Tank.

Tank nodded stoically and gave them all the vital information he had gleaned since he arrived.

"Man, I knew better than to move her around."

"Damn. Where is all this blood coming from?" said the grumpy dwarf of an EMT. I am SOOO not starting to like this guy. You would think he would be a little nicer. I mean, aren't all people in the health profession supposed to be giving and lovable. Like Florence Nightingale, or some shit like that. Cripes. HOLD the PHONE, Did he say blood? _My Blood? Like my blood pooled on the ground! Was that what he was asking Tank about!_

With that lovely thought I promptly return to my private solar system in Outer Space.

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

**Chapter 2:**

"ungghhhh…"

One of these days I am gonna wake up and still be able to remember where I am. Just looks like today won't be the day. I released a sigh and tried to reach out with my right arm to prop myself up. Where ever I was I wasn't still on the ground. Yea me! My search was impeded by a sharp tug. Ugh! Not again! Damn Hospitals. I will never live long enough to like being in them. Hmmm. Maybe that was the point. I squinted into the darkness of the room around me. Guess I don't have a roommate. My day's lookin' up. Nothing like being tortured with an incessant barrage of questions from some other sickie when you feel like crap. Plus you can't even control the remote to the T.V. Last time I was here I got treated to Spanish soap operas…24-7. Hard to take when you only know enough of the language to order from a Taco Bell menu. I am still recovering from that. Never did find out if Javier left Simone for Maria.

The door to my private hell opened and Tank stepped in. Or at least I was hoping it was him. If not the New Jersey Devil is alive and well and, I might add, almost seven feet tall.

"Hey Bombshell…" he whispered as he crossed the room stealthily and flopped into the chair beside my bed without a whisper of cloth or squeak of boot. Geez! How do these guys do that! Is it really an army muscleman thing or is it genetic…like a hair lip or something.

"I was getting worried about you."

I parted my lips to respond and croaked in reply. Damn. Throat's sore.

"Here's some water."

He handed me a Styrofoam cup which had suddenly appeared in his hand. Huh. I wonder if Houdini here can teach me to do that. I sipped the liquid gratefully and took the opportunity to truly look up into Tank's face for the first time since he entered the room. In the dim light and shadow, I could swear he looked exhausted and full of…tension? Huh? Wonder what that's about.

"Thanks.", I crackled in my unsteady Kermit the Frog imitation after handing back the cup. It magically disappeared with the same precision with which it had appeared earlier. Nifty. It's like watching David Copperfield. Wonder if he can do the same thing with white tigers, too? Nah. That's more Siegfried and Roy's style.

"Feel better?"

"Like shit." I said as I leaned my head back onto my pillow.

"Huh. Don't hold back on my account." he countered with a smirk.

"Aww. Did I hurt the big bad G.I. Joe's feelings? Well, shoot."

Instead of the customary light counter volley that I expected in response, I received silence from Tank. I looked up, curious to find out the reason for it. His eyes were unguarded brown pools. His brow creased with lines. Worry lines? And something else that I couldn't put my finger on. And just as quick as I had seen that Je ne sais quios, I watched it disappear. His eyes hardened to flint and face returned to a smooth, blank canvas. I blinked in surprise.

"You aren't making this bodyguard thing easy, Steph." he sighed with a frown.

"Huh? Body-What !"

"You heard me."

"No one asked you to bodyguard me, buddy!" I squeaked.

"Sure about that?"

"Well..umm…no…Yes!...er…**_Fuck!_** What are you talkin' about Tank?

"Just what I said. You know who asked."

"R-r-r-ranger?" I sputtered.

He nodded grimly. "Yeah. Got it in one."

"Why?"

"Well, you _were_ almost killed yesterday, Bombshell."

Huh. The man was not subtle. He knew what I had really asked about but chose to ignore my intent. Hmmmm. Avoidance. Gotta respect the technique. It's one of my trusty faithful for dealing with life. But I wasn't going to let it slide…if I could help it.

"Where is he?"

"Out." Thank you, Master of the Obvious.

"Care to be more descriptive than that?"

He sighed and leaned forward in his chair, resting his forearms on the railing of my bed. He scooted the seat forward and settled on its edge.

"Well… he is looking for a skip out of town… Trying to figure some things out. Did you see who hit you, Steph?

He reached out and grazed his big mahogany fingers back and forth over the back of my left arm on the bed. What's he doing? Is he trying to use some Jedi mind-touch trick on me to calm me? Geez. All that touch does is to stir my Mazur hormones. Dang, do head injuries cause hormone overload? I reached up and caressed my temple with my right hand and frowned. At this rate I wasn't safe to be around any man within fifty miles. Huh. Must be the lack of action for my lower center of gravity. They say cold turkey can kill an addict. It's been 5 and half months since my final break up with Joe and 6 months since the 'encounter' with Ranger. By encounter I mean the hot and sweaty, monkey grind and bump, horizontal kind. Just to clarify. Damn. I wonder if someone makes a patch for this? They would make millions if they did. Put them next to the Chunky Monkey in the Ben and Jerry aisle and WOWEE…watch the money roll in.

At the sight of my frown, Tank pulled his fingers back into his lap abruptly, thus interrupting my capitalist day dreaming.

"You promised to tell me, Stephanie. Remember?"

"Huh? Oh. Yeah I did. I chasin' my skip, Joseph 'rat-fink' Larone and the rat-bastard jumped the fence after making me chase him. You _know_ how I hate running, Tank."

He chuckled. "Well sure, after seeing the results firsthand I should know."

Poor Tank. He had been trying to take over the running regimen enforcement in lieu of the MIA Winged-Avenger...but I was resisting. Two weeks into it he relented. Maybe it was the Technicolor yawn I performed on his sneakers the last time. Naw.

"Anyway, when I landed the worm must have turned, grabbed me and pushed me down to the ground…before beating me…withmyownpurse." The last was said with a rushed whisper and an averted face. I snuck a peak at Tank's face. It _had_ hardened to granite but when I got to the purse part I swear he blinked and went utterly still…face completely empty. I squinted my eyes at him.

"Pardon me? Did you say he beat you with your own purse?"

Shit. He did catch that that last part. I flinched and nodded my head slowly. He looked at me like my head was the gumball machine at the local 5 and dime. You know, the one with only two gumballs left. He could practically hear my thoughts rumbling around in the hollow space, I'm sure. Tank started to laugh. A deep belly laugh.

"What the HELL! Are you laughing at me!"

"You gotta admit his choice of weapon was original, Bombshell." Then he quickly sobered on the turn of a dime.

Uh-oh. I think I may have developed ESP finally. What a time to acquire it.

"Stephanie…why was your purse so heavy that it gave you a concussion when lobbed at your head?"

Double shit. Definitely ESP.

"Well…I…sortaleftmyguninthere…" I mumbled.

Tank jumped to his feet and started pacing the room at the foot of my bed like a wild thing. His impression of a jungle cat was quite intimidating. He was mumbling to himself wildly. The only things I caught were: 'why me…more than he would do…can't catch any breaks'…and then something about him not wanting to be left without a chance. Whatever the hell _that_ means. Cripes. He's giving Morelli a run for the money in the flippin' off the handle department. This was starting to scare me a little.

As sudden as that he stilled. Abruptly. Completely. Like a friggin' Greek statue. He craned his head in my direction. Pinning me with his black panther gaze.

He said quietly:

"I am not the cop."

**HOLY MOTHER!**

Looks like Ranger _has_ taught Tank some ESP. Or maybe that's genetic also. GULP.

"I know."

Tank returned to my left side again and picked up my fingers gently of the bed. Ohhhkay. _Now_ he's scaring me.

"Promise to carry your gun from now on. All the time. No questions. Alright?

"ummm..er.."

"Not up for debate."

"Uh…I can't take my gun EVERYWHERE, Tank! Err…What about…when I…" Think stupid. Think. "…when I…_go to mass!_" AH-HAH! He can't debate that! Father O'Connell was not someone to trifle with. Even Tank had to know that. Point for me.

"Stephanie…" Uh-oh. I think I am starting to hate the sound of my own name. "You and I both know how many times you've been to mass these past 5 months. Do you think that's honestly an out I'll accept?"

"I'm not risking it! What would God do if I brought one into church! Strike me down, that's what! Don't be blaspheming in front of me!" Ha! Saint Stephanie. Pious little nun.

Tank chuckled. "Okay, not mass, but everywhere else." He and I both knew the church thing was an excuse. Dang. My bluff has been called. "I'll overlook it if you agree to some…terms."

Double Uh-oh. What is it with these guys! Pigs all of them! Did Ranger tell them about the deal! What'd he do put it on the side of the Goodyear blimp! Anger mingled with the previous mortification. I was seeing red and about to enter full on Rhino mode.

"Before you…excite yourself…" he interrupted, rudely, before I could rip him a new orifice, "listen to the terms."

"Alright." I ground out between clenched teeth.

"Easy, Bombshell! Don't know what I did to piss you off. Just listen and then say yes. In exchange for overlooking this… Incident…with the purse, I want you to commit yourself to my expert tutelage for training. Bounty Hunter training.

"Huh?" This is sooo not the direction I thought this conversation was headed to.

"I will not spread the tale in exchange for improving your skills. That means no more cookie jar gun storage. Range practice, _armed _range practice. It means exercise, both gym and running mandatory, along with any self defense classes I deem necessary."

**_The…MAN…thought he could boss me! Grrr._** I started to open my mouth to tell him what to do with his offer, but backed down with a single thought. MOM. My mother. My mother hearing about this incident. The phone calls. The ironing. There was not enough starch in the state of Jersey for the after effects of that nuclear bomb going off. Yikes. I have no choice.

"Fine."

"Promise it." Geez. What's his deal! Doesn't he trust me?

"Yeah, yeah. I said YES! Okay, Mister Grand High Puba!"

He smirked. "Good, we start when you get out of here."

Huh…this brings up a good question…

"When will that be? No one has mentioned anything about that yet."

"Well, your cat-scan came back okay. So your head and spine should have no long term effects and are fine. The swelling should go down soon. They want to monitor the effect of the bruising on your throat though."

"Huh?" Mmm... I seem to be saying that inarticulate phrase a lot recently.

"Steph, remember," he prompted me gently like a child, "Someone strangled you." He stated quietly.

The whole end of the prior night came rushing back to my consciousness. "BLOOD! They said blood was everywhere!" I frantically grappled my hands over my body looking for bulky bandages and finding none other that the ones on my ankle and head.

"Relax. It wasn't yours..."

"Whaaatt?"

"The blood you were covered in wasn't yours."

"Okayyyyy….I don't understand."

Tank sighed and picked up my whole hand and placed it palm up in his, covering it like a mitt with its gigantic mate.

"Bombshell, we know it's not yours. And the skip is missing. Either he tried to kill you and was interrupted by someone who tried to stop him or he or someone else was attacked by the third party while you were out after Larone hit you. If either of those scenarios are true then we need to find your skip immediately. Obviously he knows _something_ or is dead. Whoever lost that blood couldn't have survived very long. That's where the guys are. Beating some bushes. Looking for info.

"Oh." My life is never simple. Always a crazy to chase me. It's like there is a neon sign above my head that says 'Bates Motel…Welcome Psychos!' I am one Janet Leigh shower scene away from the end. Not a happy thought.

Just then Tank's cell rang. He popped it open.

"Talk." Hmmm, wonder if phone etiquette will be one of the skills that he is teaching me. "No. Uh-uh. Right Lester. Keep lookin'. Later." Well, at least he doesn't just hang up. That was sort of a goodbye.

"Bobby and Lester." He said in response to the look I must have on my face.

"And…" I prompted.

"Look, I gotta step out for a bit. Something's come up. I'll be back soon and we can talk some more about this then."

ARGGHHHHHH! What is it with these guys!

"NO! Tell me! You know that I know that you know something more than that. What's going on! Don't leave with that kind of explanation. The NO kind of explanation kind!"

"Bombshell, trust me." And he turned to leave.

That comment was one of the last things I need to hear. That is exactly what Ranger said to me. Before he stomped all over my heart with those Bates boots of his. What is it with these guys in monochromatic tones! Does black cloth affect your brain and give you a god complex or something. Tank stilled with his back to me. Like a pillar of salt. Uh-oh.

Without turning around he whispered: "I am not him either." With that he crossed the room, and exited, leaving me bass-mouthed staring at the door.

DAMNIT. I must be thinking out loud again. And wait a minute! What's that supposed to mean?

I flopped back on the bed and closed my eyes. I am done trying to decipher these guys. Finito. Das ist Alles. Nada. No more thinking about rangeman motives. It's like asking how many licks are left in a tootsie roll pop. The world will never know.

To be continued in chapter 3…

Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind

By FlyingKit aka Christine

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

**A special thanks to all the ladies that have given me feedback, ill deserved praise and who have patiently awaited this newest installment. You know who you are. ;)**

**Chapter 3:**

What is it with me and cement? Uggghhh.

Sometimes it just doesn't pay to get up in the morning. For weeks I have been working my little tail off. Busting hump, as it were, to become a better, well, _everything_. And yet here I lay on my tummy facedown after tripping over my own shoelace. Sheesh! You would think I would be better coordinated by now. Tank had taken over the reins of my training with an ease which surprised even me. I train every _bloody _day with at least one of the merry men. Surprisingly, Lester and Bobby being my main instructors. Bobby was teaching me everything about physical fitness, weapons, and in general, the AGONY of daily runs. Lester was my martial arts guru. Apparently he was a drill instructor for a spell while in the Rangers. Hard to imagine the super sauve Les knocking heads together and inspiring fear with his sexy voice. But then again, maybe that's why there aren't more _female _Ranger recruits. Heh hehI _had_ thought that Tank would be more, er, hands on with the training. Um, not to say he doesn't participate, but, AHEM anyway… Kinda disappointed by that. He's an intriguing guy. Wonder what it would be like to get to know him better? (Where did that thought come from?). He seems to be taking alot of pride in my positive progress. I know a good deal of tae kwon do, karate, some tai chi, along with some unconventional street fighting techniques. I also now proudly own my very own Browning Hi-Power semi-automatic. Yes, I am not afraid of my gun anymore. I am even a halfway decent shot according to Bobby. Heck, I even have a gun-locker in my bedroom. Weird the turns that a life can take. Normally someone telling me what to do 24-7 would send me spiraling down a vortex of animal rage. Hmmm. Must be growing up. Or maybe it's just Tank's nature. He does seem to inspire confidence. Just look at the relationship he has with the other Rangeman employees. It's not just respect that inspires their loyalty to him as the new head honcho of the company. Yes, Ranger is still gone, off in parts unknown. Nothing unusual there, well…except for the length of time he has been gone. 7 months _is_ a long time. Not that I care where the _Bat_ has flown to. Really. The interesting thing that has happened is the new close friendships I now have with some of the merry men. Lester is like the lecherous yet harmless Uncle that I never met and Bobby is like the long lost Brother that I never knew I had. Sometimes even going as far as re-enacting the sibling rivalry that would accompany such a loving, healthy family relationship. Well, healthy, in the way that two adults acting like spoiled kindergardeners can be. Bobby is even now my sometimes partner when I work for Rangeman in an official capacity. I am surprised that we haven't killed each other on a stake out. Tank one day even called us into his office after one such stake-out dispute over the age old argument of Ginger or Maryann. (Can you _believe _that Bobby actually chose Maryann! Everyone knows that Ginger got all the guys!) He says that if he has to ref one more verbal battle between us he will send us to our rooms. I rolled my eyes at him and Bobby just stuck his tongue out at Tank behind his back, before coming to my side and hugging me. We just gave him the doe eyed blink and smiled the 'Who-Me?' grins.

Ughh. But I digress. Need to spatula myself off this macadam fryingpan.

I groaned and levered myself up on my arms and sprung to my feet like a possessed marionette…slightly off-kilter.

A wave of nausea rushed through me. I quickly plopped back down on the sidewalk.

That was a mistake.

The nausea morphed like the incredible hulk into a throbbing monster of a headache. I drew my knees to my chest and slid my head between them. My head felt like a pendulum on grandfather clock. The inner waves were cresting and ebbing…back and forth…back and forth. The humanity! _Stop thinking, Steph. This is what gets you in trouble! _The little devil in my head appears to be working overtime today. Wonder where his counterpart the angel is? Is he on vacation in the Bahamas? Did I ever have one? Hmm. _Good question. Heh heh. _Oh! Put a cork in it, you…you… little red freak! I came back to myself slowly. Looks like the waves were finally receding but the head pounding was lingering to brighten my day.

"Heh heh. Assuming crash position, Steph?" Looks like my little red 'friend' has taken corporeal form. Why are there always witnesses to my exploits?

"Shut your yap, Bobby, or I'll do it for you." I growled.

'oooOOOOhhhh Baby! I love it when you get rough."

"I hate you."

"Nah. You don't. If you hated me it would mean that you would have had to have loved me at some point in your life. Only love can turn to hate."

"Thanks, Obi-won."

I finally looked up at Bobby jogging in place above me to my right. Damn. He was smiling smugly and not even the teeny tiniest bit out of breath. Bastard.

"Uh-oh. I know that look." He pouted. "Are you questioning the state of my mother's marital status at the time of my birth?"

E.S.P. rears its ugly head.

"No, I can just read your face well."

"I hate it when you guys do that."

He leaned over and pulled my hand up off the sidewalk.

"C'mon. Gotta finish the last stretch."

"But that's 4 more MILES!"

"Whine much?"

"Must I repeat myself? Shut up, **_Bob._**"

"_Don't call me that!"_

"Well, then don't torment me and I won't torment you."

"You know that you are the _only_ one I let get away with this kind of shit." He stated as he yanked me to my feet. "Others I would have shoved my boot up their ass by now."

We started running again. Or should I say I was running. Bobby was jogging. He was practically prancing around me as I sluggishly pressed my traitorous body to the limit to keep up to his 'Jog'. At least I am not panting like a dog like I used to a month ago.

"No, Fido, you're not." SHIT. I cringed and tilted my head in his direction.

"I said that out loud?" I don't know why I asked it like a question. It was more of a statement. A given fact, really.

"Yup."

"Aww, Man…"

"Yes, Woman…" His eyes twinkled with devilish merriment.

"Shaddup!"

"Repeat much?"

"ARRRGGHHHhhh!"

He wiggled his eyebrows a la Groucho Marx and took off a few yards ahead of me. "C'mon, Steph." He called back over his shoulder, "You better catch up, Chica!"

"Masochist…" I mumbled as I picked up the pace.

"Naw…I like pleasure more than pain, baby-cakes. Hence the name, Bobby Brown! Heh heh."

The man must have ears in his hiney. As I ran up to return to his side I repeated the mantra that had gotten me through many a bad run.

"Damn"…pant… "you"… grunt ... "Bobby"…Pant…"Damn"…gasp…"you"…sweat… "Bobby!"

A familiar tune was hummed from beside me. I narrowed my eyes and looked over at his calm and cool exterior. He started to sing.

"_Loooovin__' Yooouuu is eaaassyy, cos your BEAUUU- tiii-Fuuuulll," _he crooned. "Too bad, though, that you have the mouth of a sailor on a three day bender, Sweet Cheeks."

"I'll give you, Sweet Cheeks…" I grumbled under my breath. And with that I fake stumbled. When Bobby leaned over to help steady me, I turned and swept my left leg under him behind the knees. He went down like a ton of bricks. Heh heh. Looks like those marital arts lessons are finally paying off. And for a good cause I might add, if I do say so myself. I quickly darted out of reach and stuck my tongue out. I circled him doing a modified 'Rocky' shadow boxing movement, prancing from foot to foot, and giggled.

"Poor baby boy, _Bob_. What's the matters, Sweetums? Wahhh. Did the widdle _Bob_ fall down and go boom! Heh heh."

He looked up from the pavement and blinked. Once. Twice. Three times is _definitely not_ the charm. Uhhh-Ohhh. Shit. Shit. Shit. He turned his head slightly and I saw murder in his eyes. Namely mine.

"Uhhh, Bobby…You o-okay?"

In response all he did was growl.

Shit with a capital 'S'. Me thinks I better get while the getting's good.

I turned and ran like the hounds of hell were on my tail. Apt analogy after seeing that feral gleam in Bobby's eyes. I was too scared to look behind me to check and see how close he was to me. Hearing his boots eating up the pavement in my wake was enough. Time to call for back up.

Dear Lord. I promise if you get me out of this one I will go to mass twice a week and never eat another donut again. Well… maybe not twice a week. It would interrupt my training. And well… God created donuts so He knows how good they are and why therefore maybe, just maybe, I shouldn't be blaspheming Him by forsaking one of His finer creations. Ugghh. Amen.

Aww gawd! HEEELLLPPP!

Just then a black Navigator pulled astride me. I never even paused in my flight at the interruption. I just kept pumpin' those feet. Go feet, go! I think maybe I know how Rex feels now. Run, run, run. And no escape. The window of the SUV rolled down and Tank's voice boomed out. "Bombshell, What the.."

I darted over, grabbed the rear driver side door handle, flung the door open and threw myself on the floorboards of the backseat.

"**DRIVE!"** I slammed the door shut.

"Huh?"

"**Please**, just drive, **DAMNIT!" **The SUV continued steady on its course. Tank was still looking over his shoulder with a perplexed look on his face. Shoot. Let's try this again. "_Please_ Tank, **_please drive."_**

"You owe me, Bombshell." With that he sped off.

Five minutes later we pulled into the parking lot of my apartment. He pulled to the rear of the building. When he had parked he turned in his seat to face me.

"It's safe to get up now."

I sat up tentatively and looked at Tank after stealing several furtive glances out the windows. He was staring at me. Intently. GULP. He doesn't look too relaxed. In fact, his face and heck, all of him, looks kinda like Mr. Freeze. Dang. Did I just jump from the frying pan into the fire? Double Gulp. I hung my head. I swallowed nervously several times and when I opened my mouth to speak a tiny squeak was the only sound emitted. Great. Just great! I steeled my nerves and forced myself to meet his gaze. The corners of his mouth had started to twitch.

"So…Care to tell me what all that was about?" Shit. What was I gonna say? That I had poked and prodded Bobby-bear one too many times and now he was rabid, filled with blood lust, and, I might add, out for my hide? This could get tricky. Very Tricky.

**To be continued in chapter 4…coming soon…(I PROMISE.)**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

**Chapter 4:**

I swear I am not insane. Truly and Honestly, I am of sound mind. Though others might disagree due to the fact that just a few minutes ago I was huddled on the floor of a getaway car while escaping a very dangerous and VERY pissed off mercenary. Hard enough to explain is the fact that said mercenary is my not one of my crazy FTAs. OH NOOooo. That crazed mercenary is my teacher, partner, best friend and self-proclaimed adopted brother. On second thought maybe the brother thing DOES explain it. They do say that most murderers are related to their victims. Glad to know I will be making _my_ future homicide easier to solve for the Trenton P.D.

Even harder to explain is the simple fact of revealing who my would-be attacker is to the big hunk-o-man sitting in the front seat of the aforementioned getaway vehicle. The man who looked liked he was swallowing his tongue from laughter from my Bambi in headlights impersonation.

"Wellllll… It's like this, Tank." I cleared my throat and waited for divine inspiration to hit me. Or at least divine intervention if I was lucky. Several minutes passed. Silence ensued. He looked at me and I just looked at him. He was giving me _the look_. The one the guys do to intimidate the baddest of foes. I, thankfully, did not immediately pee myself. In fact, believe it or not, I returned his gaze with a mask of my own. Granted it wasn't Tank proof or of the guys caliber, but hopefully it would buy me a few more millennia to think my way out of this.

"C'mon Bombshell. Spit it out."

"Uhhh…" Stephanie Plum. Mistress of elocution.

"Uh-huh. Let's make this easier on you." With that he turned around opened his door and got out of the SUV. He walked to the rear door with his right hand underneath his jacket. Apparently in the small of his back. SHIT! IN THE SMALL OF HIS BACK! That could only mean one thing. GUN. Bobby has taught me well. UGH! _Don't think of the reason you are about to be shot, dummy! Find an escape hatch!_ I think I am starting to respect that devil of mine. Although I still had no idea how to get out of this. While I had been panicking, Tank had opened the door and climbed in the back seat. So much for escaping. I wasn't getting out of this truck until Tank was ready…or in a body bag. GULP.

"Sooo…" He inquired as he leaned into my personal space. I slunk over to my right on the bench seat. He pursued. I slunk again. He followed. I slunk…and hit the other door. I turned, leaning my back against it, thinking it was smart to keep looking my adversary in the eye. That was a mistake. Tank had indeed followed that last slide and was now practically in my lap. Or I was practically in his depending on how you looked at it. And _I _was looking at it that way. His lap looked kinda inviting…Ahem. Uh…Whatever.

Tank's brown eyes twinkled in his blank mask as be peered down at me. I again gulped. His eyes went to my throat and lingered there before slowing raking up to my lips and then meeting my gaze. He leaned over smiling and his face came inches from mine. "Are you going to spill, Bomber, or am I gonna have to _compel_ you to talk." He whispered stirring his hot breath against my skin.

"I...er...Ummm…"

"Have it your way. We'll do it the fun way…" With that he leaned over and kissed me. I was stunned, this was Tank! Tank's soft but firm lips kissing me. Tank's teeth nibbling against my lower lip. Tank's sweet, hot breath against my skin. OH Gaaawwd. I haven't been this throughly kissed since that night with Ranger. RANGER. Oh no. Oh no, no, NO! No man was gonna do this to me again. I am not reliving my love 'em and leave 'em encounter. Not in mind, thought, or _deed_ if I had anything to say about it. I broke the kiss and pulled back. Blinking rapidly trying to clear my mind, I looked up into Tank's face. It looked very open and welcoming. His lips were still there, close by, like they were beckoning me home. His rough-hewn hand still lay cupped against my cheek.

"Uhh…I think that was a bad idea." I finally managed to spill out through passion swollen lips.

He recoiled immediately. He turned from me and swiped his hands over his face, in a heavy, angry motion.

"You're right." His whole being radiated tension.

WHAT the HELL is going on? One minute he is good ol' Tank, Boss-man and leader. The next he is Tank…Wonder-lover. The man with the million dollar lips.

"I'm sorry. Don't worry. It won't ever happen again, Stephanie." Uh-oh. Real name does not equal happy times. Now what had I done! I swear I have not clue one as to what is going on here. All I know is that I don't want Tank angry with me. And he appears very upset right now. I reached out and grabbed his arm lightly. Didn't want to freak him out with any sudden moves. I learned the guys could be very dangerous, especially when they are unaware. He grimaced down at my hand before going back to granite carved mountain behemoth man face. "Tank?" He sat still and continued looking out the window. I tried again. "_Tank_?" I applied pressure with my fingers to his arm right at the pressure point that Lester had shown me. Tank whipped his head around to look at me. "Finally!" I said with a smirk. He covered my hand with his left one and forced me to ease back on my grip. "That's dirty pool! If I had known that you were going to use your newly honed skills against me…" he trailed off as I interrupted.

**"HEY Buddy!** _You _were the one who used unsanctioned interviewing skills on _ME_! I did nothing more than you did! So THERE!"

He opened his mouth, presumably to stop my tirade. But I rushed on.

"Besides I figured since my skills have already gotten me in so much trouble today, I figured, What the Hell! Can't make things any worse by using them on you, too!" Opps. Said too much. That last bit got his attention. He tensed and looked concerned at my face. He pulled me into his lap abruptly and used his finger to tip my face toward his. He was now in warrior mode and out of whatever funk he was just swimming in.

"What happened? Was a skip after you? Is that who you were running from? Fuck! It wasn't that Tomas Encinte character was it? Damn! I thought we had put the fear of god into him the last time we picked him up. But he is one crazy mutha so he could be that nuts to come after you since you were the easiest target out of all present at that take down. Shit!" He grabbed his cell phone and started to dial from memory. "Let me call Bobby and tell him to round up Les, Cal and the guys and we'll..."

**"NOOOOOOO!" **I lunged and tore the phone from his grasp, slammed it shut to turn it off, and flung it into the front seat where it landed with an audible KERTHUNK against the steering wheel where it then bounced to the floor. Hopefully never to be seen again, if I could help it. "Uh, that's not necessary, Tank. Um, I'm fine. Really! Fit as a fiddle! I can't have you guys fighting all my battles for me and I can take care of myself now…so don't worry I'll…"

"STOP." I winced and slammed my mouth shut. "Care to tell me what the 'Carrie' impression was about? Somehow I think there is something more to this situation than meets the eye, isn't there, Bomber?" He was staring at me with laser eyes. Willing me to break and spill the beans. "Now, WHO was chasing you?" I groaned and squirmed in his lap. His eyes went black. I shuddered and pressed my face against his black cotton encased chest. Trying to will my way out of the world like Dorothy taping her shoes. That gave me a good idea. I chanted 'there's no place like home' in my head thrice. I waited. No such luck. Damn Hollywood and their vicious lies! I sighed.

"Steph."

Better face the music.

"Tell me now." He started to stoke my back with his right thumb, sending shivers down my spine. Shit! Just get it over with.

"Itwasbob.." I rushed out quietly. He pulled me back for a second to look in my eyes. "You want me to believe that you were running from Morelli's dog? _Your _former four-legged compadre?"

"Um. No."

"Okay. Explain." Damn man and his monosyllabic commands reminded me of another mysterious, enticing man. Damnit! Where was he anyway? Why had he not come home to Trenton? Why had he turned Rangeman over to the giant I was currently draped over. I suspected that the merry men of mine knew more than they were telling me. Why were they holding out? Did they know about the deal? It would be like them to keep things from me if they thought I would be hurt by them. But as far as I was aware, neither Ranger nor I had told anyone anything about it. So that couldn't be it, could it? I mean, though there were times I suspected that Tank knew something had happened, he has never said word one to me. Neither have Lester or Bobby for that matter. Shit BOBBY! I spiraled back to consciousness. I pressed my face into Tanks shirt, not wanting to see his reaction to my next words. Tank could get pretty pissed at Bobby and me for our wonder-twin aggression act.

"Bobby. It was Bobby. I…I called him Bob and I think that's… part of the reason he flipped out."

"Bob. You called him Bob." Several seconds passed. That's it. That's all he said.

"Uh Yeah. Bobby was chasin' me. I kinda called him Bob…after I knocked him down. He…um…kinda provoked me so I leg swept him with that new maneuver that Les showed me a couple days ago. He went down hard and cracked his big, thick skull but good." I was kinda elated that I had surprised the impossible to dominate Bobby. Now that I had some distance I could almost giggle at it really and preen over my accomplishment. I started to shift my head to look up at Tank. He was emotionless. Shit. Apparently the golly green giant doesn't see the humor. I grabbed hold of his shirt and returned my face to its comfy folds. At least Tank's shirt wasn't intimidating. It kinda smelled earthy. Like pine fresh goodness. Mmmm. Tank cleared his throat.

"Did you hurt him?" He asked, expressionless.

Oh shit! Didn't think of that outcome. "Uh no. I mean I don't think so. I did ask him if he was okay and everything afterward. It's not _my_ fault he wouldn't answer me! I mean he _had _to be okay! _He _chased _me_ down!" I paused in my tirade. "He had to be okay, right, Tank?"

Silence. No reaction is a good reaction, Right?

**To be continued in chapter 5…**


	3. CEotCK Chapters 5 thru 8

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

**Chapter 5**

It's amazing how fast priorities can changeHow wrong I was is now being shown to me. The thought that maybe I had genuinely gravely injured, even in jest, someone I cared about this much made me physically ill. As evidenced by my shaking body currently ensconced in Tanks lap. I jerked his face millimeters from mine with the force of my fists that were still wrapped around the cloth of his t-shirt. "**Tank!**" I ground out his name with force, "Tank, you…you don't really think that...that I-I-I **hurt **Bobby, **_do_****_ you?_**" I emphasized my point by shaking my fists with a fury that would have impressed even George Foreman.

Tank slowly reached up and grabbed my wrists and pried them from his shirt, slowly lowering them into my lap. He held them there with his left hand and stroked my hair with his right, thereby forcing me to look him in the eyes. His eyes were soft but his jaw was clenched.

"I know that you would never hurt him on purpose. But… I don't think you realize how much you _have_ improved your fighting skills."

"oh Gawd! What if-if I really did…oh god…" I rasped out.

"SssHhh." He cradled me to his chest. "It's okay. Let me see if Bobby has checked in with anyone."

With that he released me and exited the Navigator, and retrieved his cell from the front seat. He flipped the phone open as he shut the front door. He paced the parking lot and dialed a number I can only assume belonged to a Rangeman employee. At first the call appeared to be going well from my silent-movie 'vantage point, but as I watched I saw Tank's face tighten and then he started to growl tersely at someone on the other end of the line. Shit! What the hell is going on! Please let Bobby be okay, dear Lord. Tank must have sensed my gaze and with a hard glance in my direction he stopped pacing and turned with his back to the SUV to finish the call. I couldn't tell what was being said but I knew Tank wasn't pleased with the call recipient …and he must not be pleased with me either. He hung up and turned back around to face me. In that moment I realized that Bobby was indeed unwell and I had _a lot_ of ground to cover to make things right with the guys. Especially Tank and Bobby. I sighed. Can't I ever get anything right? I exited the Navigator and crossed the distance between Tank and I swiftly. I stopped a few feet in front of him and looked at him as calmly as I could. Trying desperately to wait out his response when all I really wanted to do was shake his arm and shrilly demand to know Bobby's condition. I clenched my hands into fists at my side to stop myself from doing something _really_ stupid. Like trying to physically dominate Tank when he is just a tad upset with me right now. And they say an old dog can't learn new tricks. I can do this grown up patience thing. Really. I can.

"Sooooo? About Bobby…" Okay maybe I can't. Big surprise, huh? He cut of my inquiry with a sharp shake of his head.

"Come on." He grabbed my elbow, not too gently, and steered me towards my apartment building entrance. When we got to the lobby he turned me to face him briefly. He stared at me for a few moments which seemed like a millennia to my pitiful little ol' tortured soul. They say time can slow down in hell. You know, for the optimum benefit of searing flames licking at the condemned. He looked like he was finally gonna say something, but then clenched his jaw and shook his head. Like he was having an argument internally or something. Almost like an executioner. I just hope he isn't debating which method of disposal he was going to employ. You know like academically debating the benefits of designer concrete shoes in my size comparatively to a long flight to a third world country on a livestock filled plane with free-roaming chickens, with me as the star passenger trussed up to fry like the more doomed of my fellow passengers. Almost like that scene from that Indiana Jones movie. Except no cute bod in a fedora was gonna shove me outta plane to escape. Eeeppp!

"Go upstairs, hose off and change clothes." What a reprieve? Huh? "Make sure to pack a bag with mission gear, the less conspicuous the better." I guess that means black. "Pack light and enough for a few days." Shit. Shit. Shit. Why do I need a bag? Maybe he isn't debating anymore. GULP. But wait. Would he really_ allow _me to pack formy trip to Timbuktu? Not likely, right? Right? "You have ten minutes and then I will break in and haul your ass out, ready or not. Now go." He shoved me in the general direction of the stairs.

Ohh-KAY. I swallowed and ran up the stairs to my apartment. **_NO WAY_** was I tempting fate and challenging Tank on this ten minute time limit thing. When I got upstairs I showered and dressed at super sonic speed. I'm still not sure if I even rinsed all the shampoo out of my hair. Not that transatlantic-traveling fowl mind soapy, greasy hair. I ran around like I had my head cut off already, scooping up gear out of my dresser drawer and transferring it to a cute navy colored duffle bag I got at Macy's. I glanced at my watch. Three minutes left. CRIPES! I threw on my black Doc Martins without lacing them up. Heck, teenagers could get away with that look, why can't I? Well, here's to hoping I don't trip over myself on the flight back downstairs. I looked in the mirror. Something's missing. I caught a glimpse of my gun locker. I smacked my forehead with the palm of my hand. _LOSER! You almost forgot your backup piece._ The 9mm Starfire wasn't that big and intimidating but it will do in a pinch. I added it to my duffle. I moved my Browning to the nylon shoulder holdster that I was now wearing thus completing the badass chic ensemble. Black Hanes t-shirt and black cargo pants tucked into my black boots. Fuck! Too black. Too intimidating. I look like just one of the guys. Not the look I am going for today with the trouble I'm in. I scooped up a short retro blue jean jacket and tossed it on to cover the gun from the casual observer… and because it was too cute _not_ to wear. Plus it seemed to soften the look. I grabbed a multi-toned scrunchie and looped it through my hair to form a high no-nonsense pony tail. There. I think I want to remind the guys that I am soft and _feminine_…and _not _the enemy. I mean, if you were one of them could you hurt someone this girlie looking? Maybe it will help, maybe it won't. I know, I know. This is sneaky and underhanded reasoning, but hey, I can take all the help I can get. I locked up and ran out the front door to meet my fate with Mr. Chuckles downstairs. Don't ask me why, but somehow I have a feeling this day will not be as fun or as entertaining as a barrel of jolly, dancing circus monkeys. I'm good at picking up those subtle vibes, don't ya know. Mental sigh.

**To be continued in chapter 6…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

whew! Back from social gathering and was bored as a gourd and "voila! Presto!" New chapter for the faithful. (Who knew making inane small talk would be cathartic to a ((gasp))writer ((still can't help but look around when I say that word)) with major blockage…what can I say, my mind was wandering. sigh. Beneficial to y'all, I guess in this case. wink and a nudge Eh, eh? Me humble, eh? Lol. Seriously, thanks for hanging in there guys. C.)

**Chapter 6**

** 6 hours 11 minutes and 37 seconds later…**

Retrospectively it was needless to say the car ride with Tank had been a long one, emotionally anyway. Chronologically it was 'bout a hour and a half. But I digress. Taking into account that I had no earthy idea where we were going, when we would get there, or what was going to happen to me once we got there...I think that I was taking recent events in stride. I hadn't stuttered and the seat of my pants was still relatively dry. (Don't ask. Just take for fact that it_ wasn't_ my fault for once, it involved an enraged semi-truck driver and many creative hand gestures with subtitles.) And when we got on the unmarked black (what else) helicopter, I gave up trying to figure out Tank's current emotional threat-con level. _I_ think I am doing pretty well with all of this. Fan-FREAKIN'-tastic actually. Then how come I am even now standing, with hide-nor-hair of Tank nearby, in a spooky, darkened, subterranean cave that masquerades as a parking garage trying to resist the urge to run into a corner and huddle in an invisibility cloak? Hey, it worked for Harry Potter! So what that I am wishing I had the stealth, magic and deductive reasoning abilities of a pre-teen! I can take the hits to my pride. No skin off my nose if it keeps my cute little tush intact. Hey! No laughing. It _is_ little! I swear!

I looked up…and _up_ and **_up_** at the stalagmite looming overhead that someone mistakenly told me was a man. Though I had yet to see him move or breath since Tank left me in his care to give me proof of his humanity. My personal pet rock. And I thought the _guys _were intimidating. Geez Louise! He had to be at least 7 feet tall and built like a stegosaurus, but not as cute and cuddly. This goon made Hannibal Lector look positively festive and happy go-lucky in comparison. I attempted to raise an eyebrow in query. After four valiant attempts of forehead scrunching, lip curling, and spastic facial manipulations, I gave up. Some talents no amount of training can give you. Genetic talents, I suppose. Oh-Kay. Plans A and B of intimidation and girlish perplexed inquiry, respectively, have crashed and burned. Must implement plan C. Terrific. What a relief to have that decision over with…If only I _had_ a plan C. Dammit! _Wing it, Duffus! What's the worst that could happen? _I could be 'disappeared' into the east river, that's what! **_Um, hello!_**_ Where have you been lately, Madame Brainiac? You're probably already living on borrowed time with Tank! What's this dinosaur gonna do to you that ain't already gonna happen!_ Well hey, when you look at it that way…SHIT! What's it mean when your devil starts making complete sense? DOUBLE SHIT! I'm talking to myself… _and_ I impressed myself with my own persuasive abilities. ArrghhhhHhh! If only I could harness this energy for the side of good. Ahem. Here goes nothin'.

"Soooooo Senor Rocky…Whatcha think is going on in that room upstairs right about now?" I rocked back and forth on my heels, shoulders slouched, with my hands in the pockets of my pants. The picture of nonchalance. I know because I practice this look in front of the mirror every morning. Never know when it might come in handy. Now step two of brainwashing for dummies: project your intent on your victim. La-te-da. Nothing to see here. Just an innocent babe in the woods. Nothing crafty going on. Nun-huh. No way. Come on. Buy it, you block head. Tell me what I want to know. You know you want to…

Chirping Crickets.

Okay that was productive. Let's see. How about…

"You know, it must be difficult. I feel so sorry for you." I gushed sincerely.

A few minutes rolled by. Be patient, Steph. Wait him out. This will work. _Be patient. Be patient._ My mental chant cycled while I examined the cuticles of my upraised right hand and propped my left on my hip.

"What's difficult?" I stifled a smile.

AHHAH! Got a live one. Time to reel him in.

"You know, your pain. It's a shame. Truly, for a big man like you to have to live with that stigma for your entire life. So sad really…"

I saw dino boy finally blink and turn to look down at me instead of continuing his boulder impersonation. Heh-heh. I smell rubber. He crunched his low uni-brow into a tight squiggle.

"Sad? What pain?"

Jackpot!

"Must be hard to function with that giant stick up your ass. Don't you feel like a huge Popsicle everyday? And man, buying pants that fit without chaffing must be a nightmare! Betcha have to use Vaseline everyday, huh? Poor baby." I made a tsking sound and patted him on the shoulder with consolation in my eyes.

"They warned me. Shoulda listened." He mumbled under his breath as his face turned red.

"Pardon? What was that, Box-O-Rocks?"

"You heard me! He said 'watch her and don't listen to a word.' But did I listen! Noooo! Had to think you might have something interesting to say. Especially after you have that facial seizure a few minutes ago. Lord O'Mighty! I hope you don't make that face all the time! It's a wonder you don't scare all the men away! You know, it's like, "AHHHH! It's the Bride of Frankenstein" quality. Heck, even an angry mob with torches would quiver in fear of your face possibly exploding! **_Oh_**! And if I have a pain in my ass it's 5'7" and looks like a 'Skipper does Rambo' action figure! I mean what _is_ this look? Trashy Trenton-ite? Gun-runner Barbie? Mob Moll Marie? Do chicks 'round here really find that this 'on the corner' look works? And the name's 'Stone'. Not Rocky! Not Box-O-Rocks! So get it right, _Jersey__!"_

GEEZZ! Vent much! Hello!

"I'm sensing some hostility here, Stoney-baby. Wanna talk about it? Come on. I know you sensitive _artistic_ types need a creative outlet. Play your violin a little louder next time. Geez! I just didn't know you gabbed like a girlie-man. Who woulda thunk it? I mean, isn't it a requirement for Rangeman employees to be a little less Rickie Lake and a little more monosyllabic he-man-esque."

Before he could shoot back, I heard a buzzing sound. Rock-head walked over to the wall intercom unit and appeared to have an enlightening confab with someone on the other end. When he turned back around, I witnessed that my new pal-o-mine had turned his frown upside down…quite evilly I might add. He looks like the cat that ate the canary. Yikes! Maybe this provocation theory wasn't a sound idea. Too late now. HUGE mental sigh.

"Who was that, Pebbles?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" His devil smile grew in proportion to his horns. Man, I had known this guy for less than an hour and he was already learning how to tick me off like a pro. "Follow me, Jersey." He herded me to a shadowed corner and blurted out a series of random numbers at the wall. Just when I thought that maybe I had nagged him into a psychotic episode, a door opened revealing a state-of-the-art elevator car. After entering the car we stood side by side awkwardly. Only canned musak pumped into an audio system would have properly completed this 'ride to hell' vibe I was picking up on. But if that were true wouldn't the car be going down instead of up? Happy thoughts. Happy thoughts.

The doors swooshed open after Stone entered in a code in a recessed panel. I hesitated. No way was I exiting voluntarily. He grinned and whispered in my ear. "Dead woman walking." Before causally hip-checking me out of the elevator's warm, secure cocoon of safety. It was my only escape route and I didn't want to leave it behind willingly. I sighed as I heard the doors clink shut. Doomed.

Stone grinned and grabbed my shoulders. "Don't worry. I've got your back, Jersey."

And he thought THAT was supposed to make me feel BETTER! He propelled me into a large conference room. There was a crowd of a dozen or so present. I scanned quickly and picked out a few faces in the crowd. All the favs were here. Cal, Lester, Tank, and …**Bobby!** He lives! He breathes! He walks! He… gulp… SCOWLS! And let me tell you, that scowl was NOT made any less menacing by the bandage on his forehead. As I made eye contact with him across the room, the crowd parted like the red sea. Everyone had backed a safe distance away and their heads bounced like fans at a tennis match. I imagined the theme from 'the Good, the Bad, and the Ugly' whistling in the back round. I was locked, squinting, into Bobby's gaze. I swear a single tumble weed rolled by between us. Lester stood slightly to the side of Bobby and behind. Looks like I know who is backing up Bobby-boy as a Second in this duel. Arghh! I glanced behind me and saw…Stone. I about faced before I could see the full smirk completely emerge. I closed my eyes in defeat. Serves me right for pushing Stone. Didn't I learn with Bobby? To quote my illustrious mother, 'Why me!'

**To be continued in chapter 7…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

this chapter is dedicated to all m'dearies, normals and gun-toting babes alike C.)

**Chapter 7**

The Ok Corral must have been a scary place to have been present at that famous afternoon, but I think _this _afternoon was much, much scarier. Even though _our _environment was just a dusty office space with fichus trees in lieu of dusty desert and tumbleweeds. Okay, Steph. Brave front. Put on that 'street face' you been practicing. I scrunched up by nose and squinted my eyes menacingly. I wonder if this is near as intimidating as when Clint Eastwood did it in that movie? Somehow I think it's loses something in the translation. Bobby's pants still appear to be _verra_dry and Les hasn't run screaming from the room in fear. Uh. Oh well. I did a mental shrug. It was a valiant attempt…when in Rome, and all that. I bet that Clanton gang didn't look near as intimidating as good ol' Bobby-boy and Les over there. GULP! Bobby looks like a tiger ready to pounce and somehow I think I'm about to ring the dinner bell. Have you ever noticed that your palms sweat when you are nervous? Mine do. Buckets really. I swiped them along the top of my thighs in an absent minded gesture. Apparently that was my second wrong move today. (Okay, okay. More than the second wrong move, but who can count that high now anyway. What do I look like, a computer!) I was contemplating how deeply my logic in general was flawed when I landed like a beetle, on my back, on the floor, apparently caught off guard by a kick to the back of my knee. I writhed in pain from the comfort of a fetal position on the carpet before I could even think the word 'Huh?'. I heard a grunt and a body landed with an audible THUNK atop my legs. Dammit! What the hell? It hurts! Freakin' knee. After regaining some mental equilibrium I looked down at the lump. There was a young latino hunk laying on me. Normally I wouldn't mind and make an exception to the male flesh contact rule I recently adopted, but under the circumstances... The guy was glaring at me. I mean REALLY glaring! He could strip paint with that gaze! Hell, he is practically _snarling! AT ME? _Who gave him rabies!Sure as hell wasn't me! So why Kujo the dog-face-boy act directed at little ol' moi? Who the _fuck_ is this guy! I looked over at him and realized that he was being restrained at the windpipe by a huge black Bates boot. I followed the attached leg and realized it belonged to none other than Tank. He shot me a concerned look before returning his attention to Fido. I wanted to ask him what the heck was going on but voices were chattering and booming, coming in from all directions from the wall of people circling where Dog-boy and I lay in a heap. I felt like the main attraction at Barnum and Bailey! Cripes! Someone yanked latino boy off me unceremoniously. A hand, if that's what you could call the huge mitt before my eyes, was thrust into my face. I followed _that_ lighter skinned appendage and found…

"Refresh my memory, Gibraltar, 'cause I'm a little, teeny, tiny bit foggy here. You know, with the sneak attack and all, but didn't you say, and I quote, 'I've got your back'? Hmmm? Remind me not to ask you to watch it again in the near future. Bad for my health." I grumbled unhappily as he hauled me to my feet. **"SHIT! FUCK! OW! OW! OW-wee…" **Stone scooped me the rest of the way up into his arms like a feather. And I ain't no feather, let me tell ya! Normally I would critique his Nurse Ratchett technique and make some oh-so-pithy-and-witty remarks but I was more centered on more important things. LIKE PAIN. I _hate _pain. Specifically if it's mine. Did I mention I am a _total_ puss-wuss when it comes to pain? Oh Yeah! Hell, I cry when I have to rip off a band-aid! Bloody hell, as a kid my mom used to make me stuff a washcloth in my mouth when 'doctoring' my wounds after the 'flying' incident. I was fine until that rubbing alcohol bottle appeared. She swears to this day the screams cracked her prized Waterford vase in the china cabinet downstairs.

Stone carried me to a black leather sofa sitting against the far wall, right behind where Bobby and Lester were standing. I expected him to deposit me on it like a sack of potatoes but instead he eased himself into the seat, with me still in wrapped up in the branches he called arms, settling me on his lap. He wolf grinned down into my face.

"Is this the part where I say, 'My, grandma, what big arms you have?' Or would that be teeth? 'Cause it sure the hell ain't brains…" I grumbled unhappily.

He bounced me on his knee while trying to scoot me higher up in his lap to get a better grip on me.

"OW! My fucking knee! Do you MIND! That hurts you know!"

"Do you ever stop talkin', Jersey? I mean if that little stunt that Tiny Tio, " he hestitated to glower over at Dog-boy. Who would have thought someone actually _named _that mutt? "…pulled was gonna accomplish _anything_, I would have thought at the very least it would have made you shut your yap for two consecutive seconds." He chuckled at me.

"You little SHIT! You better not be laughing at me? I am gonna…"

"Oh hush, gal. You ain't doing squat anytime soon unless you can levitate and 'matrix' kick me. Seeing how I don't think you have mastered the force enough for that one, Yoda, I'll take my chances. Now be a good little girl and snuggle up tight to Mr. Stone and we'll be a-oh-kay. That's it." He settled my chest sideways leaning against his huge torso. I resisted the urge to knock on it to see if it was hollow or was indeed as solid as the rest of him. He grabbed my cargo pant leg and started hiking it up. "You are gonna be a well behaved Barbie until Doc can check you out."

"OH. MY. GAWD. Tell me you are not the 'Doc' you are referring to! Holy mother of God! A talking redwood can go to Med school!"

"Nah. No M.D. But close enough. I had enough schoolin' to get the gist before I left for the army. But, No, in this case I was referring to Senor Chavez over there." He indicated, with a roll of his head, a weasely looking man with dark eyes, dark hair and haphazard clothing. He looked about 5'3" tall and about a hundred years old! Okay, more like late fifties or early sixties. But he looked _all_ worn horse. Someone definitely rode him hard and put him away wet. I shivered. This guy looked like that back alley dentist from little 'Shop of Horrors.' You know, the one who sniffed his own laughing gas. All jumpy and hopped up lookin'. Heck even the guy's gold-rimmed glasses were askew. Oh Noooo. Nuh-huh. Mr. Chavez approached us at a slow creep. I know, I know. I should say Doctor Chavez, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Before he could arrive, Stone learned in close with a smirk and whispered. "I know what you are thinkin', Jersey. He is better trained than he appears to be. Would _this_ face lie? " He fluttered his eyelashes at me in an doe-eyed bambi-esque move. And he calls _me _Skipper! "Trust me." I rolled my eyes hard enough to win the burg 1st prize medal.

"Yeah. And look where THAT got me!" I harrumph at him and crossed my arms over my chest thereby digging my right elbow in his ribs.

"Hey knock that off, Skipper."

I smirked. "Oh. Did that hurt? Opps!" I poked him again. Heh heh.

He leaned in close to my face and purred at me,"Rat."

The moldy oldie finally reached the finish line, examined my half naked leg and finally reached the knee. Geez Louise. This might take awhile! He poked and prodded at me, much to my chagrin and shot off several rapid fire questions at me. All in Spanish. I blink perplexed at him and before I could try to figure out how to say 'no englais', Stone had jumped into answer after translating for me. I looked over at Bobby who was across the room yelling animatedly at Tank and then Dog-boy in turn. I was too far away to hear the whole of what was being said but from what I could easily decipher from the more audible of booms and wild undulating movements of his limbs, he wasn't that pleased. He turned to lunge at Tio after the idiot must have spewed some little barb at him. Tank grabbed Bobby before he could make full pressure contact with his windpipe.

**"_LESTER!" _**Tank bellowed. "Restrain that idiot before he gets himself killed!" He gestured to Tio.

Les smiled evilly. "MY PLEASURE, boss!" He hauled Tio to his feet. "Come on Tiny. We are gonna have a little _discussion_ in the other room." Another anonymous goon magically appeared to slap cuffs on Tio. Between them Les and Goonie managed to drag him by the elbows past me. When he got close he spewed his venom.

**"Fucking Bitch! No one touches one of the A team Boys!"** Huh? Who's he? Mister T? **"I'll fucking teach you a lesson even if _he _won't! I don't care how good a piece of ass you are! I'm gonna fuck you up, you cu…Ooopphhff!"**

Les was grinning as he wiped the hate off Tio's face with his fist. "Ah.ah.ah! Tiny T here has got to learn some respect. And I am just…"

Before he could finish that remark Bobby had knocked Tio over riding him to the ground with the force of his tackle. He had his hands wrapped around Tio's throat in a chokehold and he was hammering the back of his head into the floor with several good whacks before anyone could react.

"NO" **THWACK**…"BODY"… **THWACK**… "TOUCHES"… **THWACK**…"MY"…**THWACK**…"STEPH!" **SLAM! THUNK**!

HOLY fucking SHIT! Bobby has lost it! Jumping Jesus! His eyes were almost empty of all that made him who he was. The Bobby I knew was gone replaced with this methodical killer! My loving, laughing, teasing, annoying Bobby… **gone!** Is this what happens when you are in this world too long! I shivered. If this is the price of admission, I think, I want out. I am SOOO not that type of gal. No way was I willingly going to become a cold-blooded assassin!

I must have been still reeling from this revelation because I lost some time somewhere. When I became cognizant of where I was, Cal, Hector, and Tank had separated Bobby from the fray. Tio was now gone from my sight. Good riddance. Les and Anonymous Goonie had disappeared, so it looks like they got stuck babysitting him. Hope they don't 'guard' him too well. Tank won't be pleased if he has to take Dog-boy to the hospital. That one might be hard to explain away to the ER staff, since it was a given the docs would report it, and thus even harder to explain away to Trenton's finest.

Bobby thrust his hands up in the air. "**OKAY!** Okay! I'm fine! **LET ME GO!**" The guys all released him. Bobby straightened his shirt and ran a hand through his hair in a very anti-'fine' way.

**_"No, you fucking aren't FINE! Listen the FUCK up Man! You just tried to kill that little fuck, Tio! What the FUCK is the matter with you! You better not EVER fucking touch him again! Chill out or I'm cutting you the fuck out from the team, fucking indefinitely!"_** Shit. I have never heard Tank say the F-word before. And he used it in every way imaginable. Not a good sign. **_"What in the FUCK were you THINKING! Get the fuck outta my sight!"_**

****

Bobby clenched his fists and a muscle in his jaw pulsated wildly. He jabbed a finger into Tank's chest. SHIT! Things are gonna get ugly real fast, real soon. I started to shake. I would never want Bobby to get hurt on my account, and that was what was gonna happen if he wasn't careful. I think Tank is as close to losin' it as Bobby is! I have never seen Bobby so crazed though. It might be an evenly matched fight. Bobby's adrenalin fueled insanity against Tank's brawny anger. Hmmm. No good can come from this.

Stone pulled me to him and whispered in my ear. "It'll be okay. Don't worry, Jersey girl. You are safe here with me." He winked at me and stroked my thigh with the right palm that had been resting on my leg. A volley of shivers marched up and down my spine. Although this time not form fear or worry.

"**_NO! YOU fucking LISTEN toME! No one…and I mean NO ONE messes with that girl!" _**He removed his outthrust arm from Tank to point in my direction. **_"That woman is MINE! You hear me! MY BLOOD! Abso-FUCKIN'-lutely NO ONE is EVER gonna lay a single finger on her the wrong way or they answer to ME! She is my FUCKING family! And don't worry I'm leaving the room before I fuckin' knock fucking anyone else DESRVING the FUCK out!"_**

****

****Bobby glanced, mid tirade, at Stone and I. He froze. His look turned ominously dark. He stomped in our direction like a stampeding buffalo. Or maybe a more apt analogy would be like an angry lion. I suddenly feel like a wildebeast. And I know from my late night viewing of animal planet that the wildebeast is the animal kingdom's equivalent of a happy meal. Easy to take out, convenient and tasty. Even comes with a toy. GULP!

Stone abruptly thrust me off his lap, pushing me slightly behind him on the sofa, putting his body between me and Bobby. Bobby glowered even harder. His was a virtual thundercloud by the time he reached us.

**_"And YOU! KEEP." Finger jab…" YOUR"… Jab…"FUCKING"...poke…" HANDS"… jab… " OFF"...poke… "HER"…jab…"AND TO YOURSELF!" _**With that he swung a fist to hit him in the jaw but Stone twisted his torso away at the last minute to lessen the force of the blow.

"Don't do this Bobby." He stated quietly and slowly, as though as to a child. Stone had gone utterly rigid and menacingly still. And while I couldn't see his face from the position I was in, I knew it had to be scary if it was holding up to the scrutiny of Bobby's rage filled face.

**_"Later then. WE will DISCUSS your behavior and treatment of my SISTER!"_**

****

All of a sudden Bobby was hovering at my side. He leaned over to pick me up and I flinched. His face was still wrapped up tight in fury. Where was the face of the man that I had grown to love as a brother? I searched his visage. _'Where are you, Bobby?' _I silently thought my question at him, pleading for an answer. Someone called his name. He hesitated from his task of picking me up and inclined his rigid warrior face to the source of that voice.

"Bobby, man. You hear me? Bobby! You do know it's Steph, right? It's not Junie, man. It's not your sister. It's just Steph. Not the June-bug. Junie's dead, Bobby."

Lester had reappeared, off slightly to the left of Bobby, sometime during the last few minutes of terror. He sounded like he was talking down a jumper form a 50 story high-rise. Bobby whirled on him.

**_"Fuck you, man! FUCK YOU. I fuckin' know it's Steph. It's my Angel here that we are talking about. I KNOW she's not JUNIE! Stephanie is just as much my sister as Junie EVER was! From this moment on STEPH is my SISTER! You fuckin' hear me! MY FAMILY! AND NO ONE HURTS MY FAMILY! STEPH MEANS THE fucking WORLD TO ME!"_**

****

"Hey man! Chill. No one is gonna hurt Stephanie. You know that Stone's cool, man. He ain't gonna hurt her. Just chill." Lester had his hands up in the air in the universal sign of 'hey, look! I'm unarmed. Don't shoot!'

**_"Back off, Lester!"_** Bobby turned back around and this time when he looked at me his face had softened. He eyes were slowly becoming more Bobby-esque. _"shhhh._ It's okay, Angel." He gently lifted me from the sofa and Stone's protection like a piece of spun glass. "We are gonna be fine. I'll protect you. You know that, right? Always and forever, Steph-Angel. Always and Forever." He made a small rocking movement while cradling me in his arms. His eyes glazed over and numb. Oh sweet lord. _Bobby. Bobby._ _Sweet Bobby-boy. Whatever have you been through?_ I rested my head on his shoulder, hugged him, willing him to feel my strength and compassion. He looks so broken.

"Hey, Les?"

"Uh, yeah, Steph?"

"Is there a bedroom around here somewhere? You know, I am feeling a bit tuckered out for some reason." I faked a yawn. The one and only time in my life that I was not tired, I needed to be. What irony. "Maybe I can lay down for a _quiet _nap somewhere. Maybe Bobby can take me there…" I willed him to catch on.

Les nodded. "Sure thing. Good idea, Beautiful. Whatcha think, Bobby? Can you lug her upstairs or do I, with my superior strength, need to do it?"

It seemed to be working. Bobby shook off the trance long enough to figure out the conversation. "Like you could ever dead-lift more weight than me!" Bobby smiled. Whew. Never thought I would be so relieved to see this man smile.

"HEY. I think I am insulted over here, Mister Brown!" I pouted playfully.

His gaze was kinda goofy again as he turned his face to me. He stroked the side of my face. "_Never _could hurt you, Angel."

"I know."

"Go on. Take her up to your room, Brown." Les interrupted. I met his gaze over Bobby's shoulder as he carried me form the room to the bottom of a flight of stairs. "_Be careful," _he mouthed silently I nodded solemnly and discreetly.

When we arrived upstairs, Bobby kicked open a door and laid me gently on the king size bed. I held fast to his arm when he would have released me. "Stay. Please Bobby. Stay with me."I was terrified he would return downstairs to stir the hornets nest. He hesitated and then removed his socks, boots and T-shirt before turning his attention to me. He whisked off my boots, pants, shirt and weaponry before I could attempt to form a coherent thought. UH, What the heck is he doing? Think Bunny. No sudden moves. He grabbed his T-shirt and drug it over my head before laying me back on the coverlet. I blinked. He crawled up beside me, pulled down the covers and slipped us inside. Holding me tight to his bare chest he sighed.

Allllrighhhty then. Ahem. Looks like I am Bobby' teddy bear for the moment. I laid with my head on his muscular milk chocolate colored chest. Normally I would appreciate the 'Yummy' quotient presented before me but strangely enough I felt no stirrings of the infamous Mazur hormones. Maybe they expired? Perish the thought. I snuggled in close and hugged Bobby tight to me.

"Bobby?" I looked up at him and whispered.

"Yeah, Angel?" His brown eyes were still shocky but more normal looking. That was a relief.

"Are we okay? You and me, I mean…ahem… Are you gonna shove that boot up my ass as promised?"

He chuckled soflty. "No, Sweets. We're fine." He kissed my forehead and smoothed the furrow on my brow. "We never were anything but fine."

"Uh, okay, good. 'Cause I don't think I could take you out. I am still surprised I managed what I did earlier. Is your head okay? Did I do that?" I indicated his bandaged head. "Oh, man, I am SOOooo sorry, Bobby. Please forgive me."

He smiled. "Yeah, _you_ did it. I'm proud of you for holding your own. Even though it WAS a sneak attack. And there is nothing to forgive, Steph. Now sleep." He forced my head back down on his chest. "I will be here when you wake up."

I settled in, thoughts whirling. What the hell is going on today! Will my life ever be normal! I think not with these guys in it. I sighed. I turned my thoughts to the man whose warmth I was huddled in. Poor Bobby. I didn't know he had a sister. I thought he was an orphan. Well I guess orphans can have siblings too. He told me about his youth and his experiences in foster care growing up in the City, but he never mentioned a sister. Must be too painful with her being dead and all. I always wanted a brother and if that's what Bobby needed, I was gonna give it to him. I think I love him more than I could ever love my perfect sister Val! I tightened my grip on Bobby. I would protect him. Funny, the thought of me protecting this big army lunkhead. But he's _my_ lunkhead! I heard his breath even out as he stroked my cheek with the palm of his hand. His hand finally stilled after a few silent minutes. He must have finally fallen asleep. _I_ was never gonna fall asleep while I was guarding him, I thought wearily, even as my eyes grew heavy. I swore as I faded into unconsciousness I hear him whisper: "I will never, ever, leave you, Angel. Never…"****

**To be continued in chapter 8…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

pouring chocolate syrup on the curb "this one's for m' homies." (sorry, watched Austin Powers sequel last night…can't account for taste. Especially mine C.)

**Chapter 8**

**CRACK! BLAM!**

The roll of thunder woke me from my slumber. Dang it! It sounded like it originated from inside _this bedroom!_ That can't be right can it? I mean, last time I checked, it couldn't rain _indoors. _Can it? Damn that Al Roker and his misinformation.

I tried to sit up but was pressed steadfastly to a rock hard wall. Wait a minute. I felt around blindly with my hands. That's a big hand. That's a six-pack. That's a chest. Ah, that's right. Bobby. Sleeping. Naked torso. Check and Roger. It's all coming back. I mentally tapped my noggin. Steel trap, don't ya know. Now what was that sound? I smiled sheepishly up at Bobby. I blinked. He was pointing a Beretta at the bedroom doorway. I shifted my eyes. CRAP. I slammed the traitorous orbs fast. I am hallucinating. That's it. That entire trauma yesterday has finally taken hold and I am seeing things that _really_ aren't there. Or better yet! I am dreaming! Though I am used to him starring in those; my _nightmares_ aren't usually where he makes a guest appearance. Unless…

"OW! SHIT, Angel! What in the hell was that for! Don't do that now! Kinda busy at the moment."

OH Holy FUUUuu…

"Uh, Sorry. I thought I was still sleeping."

He sighed. "Don't you know mean dreaming? And you do get that you are supposed to pinch yourself not me, right?"

I tried to hide. Nodding my head, I unconsciously buried my face in the crook of Bobby's neck in search of safety. I mean, my realization wasn't complete if I didn't acknowledge it, right?

"_It's not a dream. It's a FUCKING nightmare_." The voice I dreaded ever hearing again growled.

I turned in Bobby's arm, legs still intertwined with his and our sheets, to watch this soap opera unfold.

"Ranger, what are you doing back here?" Bobby inquired, emotionless, as he stared at the shadowy figure still looming larger than life in the doorway.

I looked at Ranger and could have wept. The Cuban sex-god had lost none of his powers. He still oozed raw sexual male prowess like most people wore cologne. He looked the same, dammit! Luscious lips, long ebony hair secured at the nape, and to-die-for chocolate pools for eyes. His body was still as beautiful and hard as ever. He was encased in his black swat gear like a plump polish sausage. A little heat and they would peel away to reveal yummy, juicy goodness. Sweet lord. Is it hot in here! I think it's hot in here. I need to talk to someone about fixing the thermostat for this room. It's not fair! He doesn't look any worse for wear. He should after what he did to me by leaving me with not a single word since that day 7 months ago. Or should I say night. It was fucking night-time when he ripped out my still beating heart like the voo-doo priest in that movie 'Temple of Doom.' Funny, what one's mind chooses to remember. It's the little details in life that linger like bad breath.

Ranger's mirthless laugh jarred me from my hormone rumination and emotional flog-fest.

"I thought I knew why I came back to Trenton. Apparently, I don't have a clue." He turned to leave. "Get dressed and report in downstairs at Comm Central." He snarled.

"Hey, man, this isn't what it looks like…"

"Save it. I don't want to talk about it. No, I'm done talking. Actions always speak louder than words…"

A knife twisted in my chest. He couldn't be saying what I think he was saying, could he? Did he mean he came back here to see me? I am so confused. Did I read him wrong before? Did I misunderstand? I didn't think you could misinterpret the things he said and didn't say when he left. Maybe I was wrong. Wouldn't be the first time. Sure, as hell won't be the last. I feel like I am watching a foreign film and trying to read the rapid moving subtitles to keep up. When would I find the power of speech?

"You are making a big mistake…"

"No, Brown, I only made one mistake. Looks like now I don't have cause to regret it. Thanks for showing me the light. Though I should warn you to be careful what you crawl into bed with. Tell me, did she even wait for the sheets to cool before she brought you in?" With that he stalked out and down the hall. His footsteps echoed with a lonely finality. I shouted after him. "NOooo! RANGER! Wait!" I tried to scramble from the bed and follow him down the hallway, but I tripped and ended up on my butt. I heaved myself up to try again when a hand grabbed my arm. Bobby hauled me against him.

"Let him go."

"What! You're kidding right! He thinks we…"

"Yeah, he does." Startled I looked at Bobby's face. He had his death-mask on. Boy, he looks pissed.

I looked at him incredulously.

"B-but he..he.." I started to cry.

"Shhh. He's not worth it. He obviously doesn't deserve you. Let him go."

"That's just it, Bobby. I thought I had! But when I saw him again, standing there, even angry he looked…and I felt…oh NOooo…" I wailed. I'm sure my face was a spotty mess by now. Bobby rocked me in his arms, still stroking my back to sooth me. He placated me with low, soothing sounds as people are wont to do with small children.

After a good ten or fifteen minutes, when I had calmed, I shifted upright and he held fast. I looked deeply into his eyes.

"I thought I knew him and he hurt me. Then and now. I thought before that I could trust him with my heart as well as I trusted him with my life. I thought, for a second there, we could fix things. But we can't, can we, Bobby? Maybe we were never meant to be…"

"Angel. Things happen a certain way for a reason. Maybe this was just a cosmic way of showing you how things really are? I know it sucks but, maybe, you aren't destined to be together. I know how your mind works. All fairy tales and happy endings. That's not realistic, now is it?"

"But I love him. Or _thought_ I did. Shit. I am _so _confused! Why do I always pick the bad boys…they only grow up to be bad men." I sighed and paused. "You might be right."

"The only love you need is the love you make for yourself in life. The love you make with friends and family. The love you have with the guys. " He hesitated, forced my chin up with his hand to stare at his eyes. "My love." I swallowed the tears that threatened to fall. "Not the kind where you wait for some stupid _superhero _to come rescue you."

God, how did I deserve such a friend.

I leaned up and pecked his mouth with mine. Wiping my eyes, I returned to stand flat on my feet.

"I love you, too."

"Uhhh…maybe I should come back. Now doesn't look like a good time." Lester's voice boomed over to us.

"Nothing to interrupt, man." Bobby called to him before he could leave. We turned to face Lester, who in turn was staring wide eyed at the broken bedroom door. Wood had splintered off in shards on the carpet and the door handle had gone through drywall behind it. Guess I just deducted what that lighting stuck earlier.

"HOLY SHIT."

"Exactly." Bobby returned. He slid behind me to pull me into his embrace with his arms snugly around my shoulders, while Lester examined the disaster area.

"Uh…I heard the boss was back. But somehow I think you two already know that."

"Yeah, we got that memo." Bobby stated as he gestured to the door. "Loud and clear."

"Oh man! Tank is gonna have his hands full! He is in with him now in the war room. Shit! What did you do? What did you say? What did he say!" Did I mention that Lester can be a real gossipy mother hen when he applies himself?

"It doesn't matter what he did or said. It's over and done with. Besides he is the one who left. He has no place here now."

"Uh, don't you think the Bomber should have some input on that?"

I had a new respect for Lester. I would have not had the cahones to say that to Bobby right now. He had started glowering with the first mention of Ranger. Now his hands were clenched and his jaw pulse ticking. He looked about ready to pop.

"It's okay, Les. Bobby and I talked. He's right.'

"Sure about that, Beautiful?"

No I wasn't. But… "Yeah, I'm sure."

Lester's face turned grim and he looked straight at Bobby but spoke to me. "Steph, can you wait outside for a moment? Bobby and I need to discuss something."

"Uh yeah. Sure." He startled me by escorting me to the hallway and shutting the broken door behind me. CRIPES! He could have at least given me my pants! I only wore Bobby's shirt, currently, and my little pink heart print undies. Somehow I don't think that was the appropriate attire for a war-meeting downstairs. The door reopened quickly and a pair of sweats were thrown in my direction before it was quickly slammed shut.

DAMN ESP!

Arghhhh. Well, at least nothing else can go wrong.

"We keep meeting in the strangest ways…"

Oh man! I jinxed myself. What's that saying? Oh yeah. Something about a Rock and a hard place…

"Awwww, _cram it_, Bam-Bam!'

"Bam-Bam? That's a new one." He chuckled merrily.

"You know, like that strong little baby on the Flintstones. _You know_." I made a motion with my hand like I was swinging a club, bashing an imaginary object. "You are just that subtle, I thought the name appropriate."

He clapped. "Aww. I am so proud. Miss thing made a funny. Tell me is it your first? Shall we go pop some Krystal and sip champagne?"

Arrghhh. What is it about this guy! He is such a pain in the ass! "You're…" I scrambled for a comeback…"you're… just a big knob head with no knob!" TAKE THAT!

"Well, at least I am wearing pants. Care to explain the mid-unveiled streaker look you got going on here? This ought to be a good explanation," He spouted with glee. He slouched, crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. I guess trying to get a good seat for the show. OOooooo! RAT!

**To be continued in chapter 9…**


	4. CEotCK chapter 09 thru 12

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

To the people who love a good laugh now and then, love ya!C.)

**Chapter 9**

I knew the exact moment Stone spotted the carnage behind me. While I had been plotting his early demise via blunt object, (maybe I could steal his club and bash him to death! Do you think he'd notice?), he had straightened his spine stiffly, quickly recovering from his slovenly posture, and the corners of his mouth twisted down unhappily, one assumes. He slowly turned his eyes to me. Burning a path on the way there. He raised a single eyebrow.

Dammit! Can EVERYONE else do that besides me!

"Jersey…did I just miss a temper tantrum of yours? A _spectacular_ one by the looks of it…"

What! He thought **_I _**did **_that! _**What a****big pain in the…

"**NO!** It _was_ a temper tantrum, but it wasn't **_mine! _**Damn Men!" Stone didn't realize that he hadn't just playfully lit an innocent sting that was lying on the floor. OH NO! That string was a very _short_ fuse that led to my very _full _powder keg! "What the Hell do men want! TELL ME! 'Cause I sure as hell don't know! I've tried everything, even saw a psychic once! All seeing Madame Zora, my ASS! My lotto numbers didn't even work either!" I grumbled. "I bet she couldn't even predict the weather! I should have known that all men suck! With a capital 'S'! They are irrational and emotionally retarded and stubborn and…_and…**and…**_" I was counting off my points on my hands, and wondering if I was gonna run out of fingers before I was done.

"Whoa! Slow down there, Speedy! I don't speak Klingon. Back up and slow down." He had pushed off from the wall to stand in front of me during my tirade. Now he was shaking my shoulders. He only stopped when I had stopped rant… er…talking. He raised a hand to cup my chin so we were making complete eye contact. A little zing of electricity shot through my face down my body straight to my chest. Cripes! What the heck was that! Usually those go straight to my…err…you KNOW…my…okay, I'll just be grown up and say it… doodah!

"Now, isn't that better?" WHAT! Did he feel that too? Huh? Somehow I don't think that he was talkin' about what I was thinking about… "Who did this if you didn't? Let me guess…Brown? Did he flip out again? 'Cause if he did, he and I might have to have that _discussion_ he wanted yesterday, right now." I quickly and emphatically shook my head no. The last thing I needed was another bonker man on my hands. He acknowledged my response with another gestulating eyebrow. He poured his southern drawl on extra thick like molasses. "Well Now, honey-chil'-girl-chil'-woman-chil', if it weren't, tell Big Daddy Stone what he wants to hear or it's whooooppin' time! Don't make me take ya over my knee right here, Suga!" He slapped his hand playfully against his thigh for good measure. "See! I even have the technique down!"

I couldn't help but laugh and I guess that was his intention. Maybe this guy wasn't SOoooo bad. Well, all the time anyway. I mean Attila the Hun had his good moments too, right?

"Funny, I can't see you as anybody's daddy, let alone mine! Unless you were a Sugar Daddy…to a transvestite, maybe…"

He got up in my face and wolf grinned. "Aww! Now, Jersey…" He stroked my arms and playfully pulled me into a hug. When he let me go he was chuckling. "You don't look that bad. Maybe if you ease up on the pancake mix and eye tar, I bet no one would make that mistake anymore… HEY! OWWW! THAT HURT!"

I pretended to buff a fingernail. "Now look what you've done, Flintstone! Made me chip a nail!" I unceremoniously shoved the finger in his face. Hey, what do you know? It was the middle one. Funny. What a ka-winky-dink. "_You _are paying for a visit to Ms. Kwan to get it repaired."

"_I am not!_ YOU are the one who poked me in the ribs! And by the way…don't promise what you can't follow through on." He said gesturing to my finger.

Holy shit! "Uh… Weren't we talking about something else? Er…the door! No...No… it wasn't me or Bobby. But we had front row seats."

He cocked an eyebrow. Probably deep in thought trying to decide how deep I was willing to crawl down the rabbit hole to avoid his comment.

"Okay then…" he made a rolling gesture with his hand, "out with it!"

"It was Ranger." I said sheepishly.

"Manoso? He's back! I thought he moved to Miami?" WHAT! No one tells me ANYTHING! I wonder who else knew. I can think of at least three others…Larry, Curly and Moe perhaps… that would make, Bolts-for-Brains here, Shemp, I suppose. I started plotting multiple homicides. "All my dealings with him in the past have shown him to be pretty even-keeled. Why in the world would he bust open a door…" He stopped as a light dawned. "Sooo…you AND Bobby both had front seats, huh?"

"Hey! It wasn't like that! Well, we were both in bed and, okay, we were both not fully dressed, but we had been **_sleeping_**…and it wasn't what it looked LIKE!" I finished with a breathless gasp. "It's not my fault if Ranger didn't understand! He didn't stick around for an explanation! WHAT ELSE IS NEW! He took off without clearing the air, just like before, DAMMIT!"

"Wow. Manoso, huh? And not Bobby? Hmmm. Wouldn't have figured you for a groupie. Boy, you get around, Jersey." He chuckled.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?" I shoved him hard in the shoulders. Geez! I think I just paralyzed my wrists! Ugh.

"HEY! I was joking! Just kidding!" He had his hands help up in surrender. "I get it! Nothing happened with Bobby. But something obviously did with Manoso before…" He raised a brow in inquiry. "Care to share? Come on, Dish. You _know_ you want to…I bet you are 'bout ready to burst with the need to talk. I see it in your eyes, Jersey. Your blab-o-meter is set at 'OVERLOAD'. Tell Big Daddy Stone…"

I looked at him silently, studying him for a moment, just thinking things over. Stone fidgeted. Army musclemen can fidget? Go figure. You learn something new everyday. I guess I was making him nervous by not answering right away. Had to be a first for me, thinking before speaking, that is.

"Look. I'm half-naked here! Can we go somewhere else less public to discuss this? I would like to be wearing pants before I have _this_ conversation. Especially if," I poked him in the chest again. "YOU are the willing ear. You are shifty looking. Don't trust ya!" I grumbled under my breath… "Men. Harumpff!"

His face split into a Jack-o-lantern grin and just as frightening, I might add!

"Sure thing, Suga! I know just the place where we can go. Never thought you would be so willing…" He went to pat me on the butt playfully. I darted out of reach and glared at him. "If that hand goes anywhere NEAR where I think it was going, I'll chop **_it _**off. And that may make ya a _little _unhappy when you try to have some _quality _time with _yourself,_ if you catch my drift, Popeye."

He chuckled. "Sure, Miss Bad-Ass. Whatever you say." He switched into an English accent and his whole demeanor changed. I blinked. Man he's good. "This way, ma'dame. If you would kindly follow me." He placed my arm in the crook of his, and proceeded to lead me down the hallway.

"Whatever you say, Jeeves. I bet you were scary as a kid. "I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "Did your mother ever try to 'lose' you somewhere? Must have been hard for her to have a son like you for spawn. All that energy and no brains…" I tsked and shook my head at the thought. "Poor woman."

"Remind me to tell you about the time I put the cat out to dry on the clothesline sometime..." His voice trailed as we walked away.

**Meanwhile…a few… say oh 10 minutes prior… in the war-room…**

Lester and Tank were bent over a set of blueprints set on the conference table. Both were grim faced and doing nothing to disguise it. At this rate, the would never be able to solve their problem, Tank thought. Even though Les had isolated the place, i.e. the terminal where the transmission was sent from, they had yet to figure out who the leak was. It had to be an inside job. For god's sake, the bastard didn't even completely cover his tracks well! They knew someone had accessed it with a Rangeman employee card, which when traced yielded a phantom name, but whoever did it was smart enough to wipe any incriminating evidence from the hard drive. And not just the surface info, but every fucking piece of data from the last 2 months. GONE! Along with any chance of finding out who was receiving the info about their recent missions! And worse was the fact that Tank had to call _fucking _Ranger to tell him what happened. Man, he was _not_ pleased. DAMMIT! Tank banged his fist down on the wood hard enough to spill his coffee all over the prints. FUCK!

"DAMN MAN!" Lester rushed around with a bunch of papers trying to sop up the mess. "What the hell? Could ya make a little more of a mess! SHIT!"

"Lester." One menacing word. That's all it took for Les to know Tank meant business.

"Uh, sorry, Boss."

"It's alright." He caressed his head which he had just recently shaved again. He hadn't done that for a while. But Steph had mentioned she liked that Van Diesel guy… he grinned without knowing it. _Steph_. He sighed and shook his head. Besides he had done it in the past and it was easier to take care of. He turned his attention back to Lester, who had noticed the strange smile and was perplexed.

"SO what do we have on…"

They were interrupted by the door slamming open and Ranger stalked inside. By the time Ranger had closed it and come to stand on the other side of the conference table, Les knew he wanted to get the _hell_ out of there. He was no crash test dummy! Nuh-uh. He knew how Ranger responded to failure. Especially failure connected this closely to him. The info sent, they had deduced, had to have been info on "The Missions", capital 'M', that Ranger had gone on for the past year. Shit. Les had no idea what Ranger really did for the government and to be honest he wanted to keep it that way! People had a habit of disappearing around James Bond types. And Les did not want to add his name to the roster!

"Uh, excuse me, Boss. I better go get something to clean this up with that works better…"

"Fine, go, Santos," and "Dismissed, Lester," followed his statement.

Both Tank and Ranger answered him at the same time. OH shit. This could be bad, Les thought. Before he could calculate how VERY bad this situation could be, Tank looked at him and said. "Go ahead and go, Santos. Give us a few minutes." Les nodded and left the room.

"Ranger..." Tank started to speak.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON AROUND HERE TANK! I leave and everything goes to HELL! Maybe we should have put someone else in charge…"

"What the FUCK! You put me in charge, Ric, _Buddy!_" Tank stated sardonically. "You make a mistake! I don't think so."

Ranger barked a laugh. "Funny, that's the second time today someone has told me I made a mistake." He shook his head in disgust.

"What the hell are you talking about! Look, I know things are shit right now with this leak but we'll plug it. Don't fucking worry. _You _couldn't even take care of this better yourself! And I don't think this is the time or place to discuss mistakes. There is enough blame to go around."

Again Ranger laughed and slammed his fist into the table thus cracking it, and belittling his laughter. Tank blinked and stoically monitored Ranger.

What the hell!

"Man, I don't think this argument or situation with the leak warrants this level of anger."

Ranger painfully smiled and walked over to Tank shaking his head. "What the fuck does then, TANK, BUDDY? Hmmm, _pal_? Maybe you could have _told me_, warned me before I flew up here. This I think warrants some anger." He walked to the back corner wall of close-circuit monitors, dragging the larger man along beside him. "Fucking _this _maybe..." he turned on the closest monitor. Tank saw a bedroom, Bobby's bedroom precisely. SHIT!

He shut his eyes in defeat. No wonder Ranger was flipping out. He glanced up and stared at Ranger for a few silent, tense moments.

"Look, Ric, man, it's not what you think. Bobby was having some problems last night. He seems to have had a relapse and he is fixated on Steph…"

"Hell, I'd say he is a lot more that that with her. BASTARDO!" He punched the wall. "He FUCKING slept with her. How could he?" He shouted. Then he ran his hands over his face and moaned, "How _COULD_ she?"

"They didn't do what I'm sure what it looked like to you. You of all people should know what kind of situations Steph can get into! You know, wrong place, wrong time, kind of karma-shit. Dammit man! She wouldn't do that to you. Though you might deserve it if she did…" He muttered.

"What the FUCK is that supposed to mean!" Ranger slugged Tank in the jaw, HARD. Tank never even saw it coming.

"DAMMIT, RIC! DON'T FUCKIN' GO THERE WITH ME!" Tank bellowed but managed to stop himself from returning the compliment with his fists.

"SEE how much she cares, PAL!" Ranger spat. He walked over and turned the sound to Bobby's room up on the speakers.

Tanks glanced up and watched transfixed next to Ranger. Both men were equally disturbed by the scene but for different reasons. Stephanie's sweet voice flowed out melodically:

_"…to be bad men." Steph sighed and paused. "You might be right."_

Bobby was holding Steph awfully close, Tank though unhappily.

_"The only love you need is the love you make for yourself in life. The love you make with friends and family. The love you have with the guys."Bobby hesitated, and forced her chin up with his hand to stare at his eyes._

SHIT! He was making her cry.

_ "My love." _

Now Tank wanted to strangle someone!

_"Not the kind where you wait for some stupid superhero to come rescue you."_

OH MY GAWD! No. Ranger couldn't be right! Bobby after Steph! Bobby trying to sabotage whatever freaky relationship that Ranger and Stephanie had? Naaa…

Steph appeared to be watching Bobby intently and then she leaned up and pecked his mouth with hers. Wiping her eyes, and returned to stand flat on her feet.

_"I love you, too."_

NO! I didn't just hear that. Just when I thought she had gotten _batman_ over here out of her system. No. NO. NO! Tank was seeing red.

"Do you get where I am coming from now, Tank, _buddy!" _Ranger growled.

Oh yeah! Tank thought. I do. I understand more than you would like. He was gonna kill Bobby…

**To be continued in chapter 10…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

TO all my peeps whose feedback has made me laugh and not cry! (Yes I am still reading feedback, just can't write back yet…)

Thanks for keeping me going strong! thrusts single fist in the air** FIGHT THE RESISTANCE!** ER…sorry…dramatic weekend… as you can tell from chapters. OH and to my partner in crime, my cellmate, my prison bitc… Er..i mean …my Minion, Marcie. ahem Love ya all! C.

(PS- special thanks for the heads up, Celestina, on the conspiracy investigation. Don't worry I ate the note.)

**Chapter 10**

The end of the yellow brick road sure looks like the beginning. This hallway was just as confusing and surreal. I'll never be able to navigate around this place on my own! How creepy would it be if a bunch of dwarves jumped out and started singing right about now? I shivered and grabbed Stone's hand.

"Uh, shouldn't we be leaving a trail of bread crumbs or something…"

"Are you that bad a bloodhound, Jersey? Funny, the guys are always telling me how talented you are when it comes to ferreting things out. I mean with that nose I thought you would be great at sniffing for clues…"

"You are a freakin' laugh riot, you know that! Cripes. I can 'ferret' out clues but it is only pure luck, I assure you, not inbred ability like what your ancestors gave you. We all can't be that lucky, now can we? Refresh my memory, Pebbles. What pedigree are you again? Oh that's right. Sorry, didn't mean to bring up a sore subject. I know you are still working with the 'counselor' with that whole being a mutt issue. My bad." I shrugged my shoulders and entered the doorway that we had stopped in front of. I just assumed this was our destination. When I walked inside I was a bit startled, but I covered it quickly. And well, I might add. By well, I mean that I didn't stand like a statue in the middle of the room, making the donut hole face. I mentally giggled. I am the SHIT! Why were we in one of the bedrooms? I mean it had to be a core team member's, because only a trusted person would be able to sleep this close to the three stooges. It was a quirk I had long ago discovered when the guys and I had been out-of-town on a distraction/takedown. They wouldn't let anyone else sleep at the house they had rented. Heck. Forget sleep; let alone let them step inside unescorted. Some slop about bugs and plants. I hadn't really bothered to pay attention until later when it was time to go to sleep. They had shown me to my room there instead of sending me to the hotel with the others. BIG SOFTIES! That was the day I realized that they, Bobby, Les and Tank, considered me one of their own. The Trio was now a …Quatro? Is that a word? Umm…you get the point.

I walked to the bed and looked at it. Hmm. Purple sheets? Too weird. And, boy, whoever slept here was a slob. It wasn't even made! Heck, _even I_ threw my covers up in a half-assed attempt to hide my ratty sheets everyday! I sniffed. You would think whoever slept here would do the same. Common courtesy. My mother would have a heart attack if she saw this room! Definitely not a burg boy, no siree bob. I bounced up and down on the bed testing it out. Cool. I always like testing beds. It's a habit that has never died since childhood, much to my mother's mortification. Believe me, it was hard to explain to the Dick when I was more interested in testing out the heart shaped bed than taking a 'ride' on his magic carpet on the first night of our honeymoon. What can I say? How many times does a girl get to bounce on a heart shaped bed in one lifetime? Come on. No contest. I suppose that was clue number one that I didn't really love the Dick. But I digress. I grinned merrily, enjoying my temporary flight to and fro from the mattress springs, when I happened to look up at Stone. UH-oh. Whoops. Forgot.

Stone was standing there with a goofy grin clutching his chest dramatically.

"Do you think you could go get dressed now, Tinkerbell? I don't think my heart can take one more glance of that spiffy slip-o-nothing you call drawers bouncing up and down on my bed. Though it is a luscious sight…" he purred.

I blushed. His bed! Yikes! I hopped down like I just realized the bed was infested with fleas. "EWWW! Stone cooties." I ran to the farthest side of the bed. Coincidentally, the farthest point in the room I could get from Stone. Huh. Go figure. "Never took you for a purple man." I giggled pointing to the covers.

"Hey, what can I say, it looks good against my fair skin." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Damn Skippy! I would have to agree! I hate when he is right. My pal, here, was one luscious piece o' pebble! Fruity Pebbles or Cocoa Pebbles, I haven't decided yet. Both were equally magically delicious. I felt myself drift mentally. Warm tan skin, deep chestnut locks hanging ever so rakishly over one eye and the rest spread over his pillow. OOOOoooo and those blues eyes! Well, not blue exactly. They were more of a deep shiny gunmetal obsidian. You know how if you look at a gun at just the right angle in the moonlight and when the metal reflects it back to your eye? For one glorious split second you see a simmering royal deep blue light. THAT'S the color I'm talking about! UH…er…Hey! I'm not the only one obsessed with guns, _am I?_ Damn that Bobby! 'Just want you to be less afraid of your gun,' he said. 'You'll be happier if you know your weapon,' he said. Bullshit. Now I sound like FREAKIN' Charlton Heston. Come to think of it, I don't think I mind that association. Ugh. Mentally I was thumping my head against the wall right about now.

A hand waving an inch in front of my face, accompanied by an amused chuckle jarred me back to the present.

"You okay there, Dorothy? Hmm, wonder what sent you over the rainbow with that look on your cute little ol' noggin for the last few minutes…" he smiled knowingly. I growled.

"If you must know, Sir Nose-a-lot, I was thinking about guns."

He blinked. AH-HA! I think I just stumped the comeback king. The KING is dead! Long live the QUEEN! Hurrah! Just when I finished envisioning what my crown jewels would look like around my neck and had moved on to designing my royal coronation gown, I was rudely interrupted.

"Guns?"

"Uh. Yeah! Duh! That's what I said, buster." Boy, he was swift today!

"Let me get this straight. You were thinking about guns when I mentioned the prospect of _me_, lying in the _buff_, on _those _sheets." He pointed to said sheets in case I hadn't seen them enough already.

"Well, yeah. What else would I be thinking about! Oh! And Charlton Heston, too, but the gun thing was first." I stated matter of factly as I strode to the bathroom door. "What's your point, Rocky?"

"OMIGAWD! You are priceless!" He was full out laughing now and was doubled over holding his sides. OHHHhh-Kay. Not exactly the reaction I was trying to goad out of him. He's a nut! Did I mention he is a nut! Crikey. He was wiping tears from his eyes trying to gain control of himself while I was mentally sizing him for a nifty new jacket. One with arms that tie in the back, leather straps and shiny buckles.

"Normally I would be offended by your preoccupation with firearms over the option of drooling over me, but this just makes me laugh too much!" He looked over at me, and I could still see tear tracks. "You sound like a certain someone I know. He practically buffs wood from the mere thought of an Uzi! I _have_ to fix you two up. Oh yeah, a _friggin__' blind date!_ That's priceless!" And with that he started rolling again. Jesus! Can you say, CHOOCOO! I still stared wide-eyed wondering if I should go try to find a butterfly net, when he FINALLY recovered. He leaned with his palms on his knees and tilted his head to look up at me. "Boy, I haven't laughed that hard in years!"

"Sounds like a personal problem, on both fronts. You actually hang out with a guy who has gun fantasies!" I shivered at the thought.

"Skipper, let me put it this way. If there were a way to surgically alter himself he would have had traded in something every man protects like the Holy Grail for the addition of a shiny new flame-thrower. It's his nature."

"I think I am offended. And I don't know exactly why…"

"If you met him you'd understand."

"Uh, that's okay. No need." I backed up into the bathroom, scurrying like a mouse. NO WAY was I ever gonna associate with someone like THAT!

Stone sighed. "Don't worry, Jersey. I don't see why you would ever have the need to make his acquaintance. Why don't you go hose yourself off and slither into something more…er… _less_ comfortable."

He held his nose. "…And less fragrant. I don't like standing down wind."

Why that Sonova…

"ARE you implying I _stink_? You better not be, buddy! I am sooooo gonna kick your ass! Just you wait!" I shook my fist at him. Oh yeah. Shake in terror, Big Boy!

"No. No implication, just a simple statement of fact. You of all people should understand something simple. **_Oh_** and…_Yeah right!_ You and what army, Peewee?"

OH NO HE DIDN'T! I did a Lulu caliber neck-roll. Er... well... at least the white girl watered down version. Think a little _less_ smooth rhythm and grace and _more_ 'funky chicken.'

He held up a hand. "Go shower." He slapped me on the rump and shoved me in the bathroom. "We have things to talk about, remember? Manoso and your 'relationship'," Ohmigawd! Did he just use air quotes? Hello! So Nineties! "…or maybe I should say lack-there-of?" I groaned. I turned to run into the shower portion of the bathroom that was sectioned off.

"Oh… and Tinkerbell?" I looked at him over my shoulder, perplexed by the nickname. "Nice hearts. Pink are my favorite now." He laughed at me while I turned fifteen different shades of crimson and I slammed the door in his face.

Meanwhile… a mere few minutes later…

The shadowy figure crossed the room and picked up his phone. It was time to for the call. As much as he wanted what the man could give him, he hated dealing with this scum. Well, as long as he got what he wanted from them, it didn't matter what he had to put up with. He was going to change his life for the better. It was time for a promotion.

Across town…

A phone rang. Fortunately it was on silent mode. The man on the other end picked it up nervously.

"Jesus Christ! I told you not to call me now! There is someone in the next room!"

Fuckin' asshole, the one Man thought and sighed. Soon, the other Man chanted in his head.

"I know that that phone isn't even programmed to ring, so calm down. Did you wrap the package?"

"Yeah, I got the info."

"And the package? Is it ready to wrap?"

"Yeah. I just want to put a bow on it. That will take some time."

I hate having to talk this television spy shit! Why is it everyone and his brother thinks this is the way it's done? The Man thought.

"When will it be ready?"

He's not feeling very patient right now.

"Whenever I say it will be."

"It's ready when I say it is!" He growled.

"Is this anyway to treat a valued new employee?"

I'm gonna kill him, he thought charitably. The other Man thought less charitable thoughts. Ones that involved torture.

"Just deliver the goods personally along with the package in 3 weeks to the rendezvous point. I'll call again. Don't attempt to contact me."

"Don't bother. Just use the message service from now on. Safer."

A feral sound was the only response besides the click.

Amateur. I'm going to enjoy taking him out, schemed one Man. Dead. Already dead, thought the other Man.

A few MORE minutes pass…

This is the best idea I have had all day. Uh-huh, yeah sure. I glanced unhappily at my reflection in the mirror. I mistakenly thought the shower would help tame my morning Afro hair. Staring in the mirror I sighed. Nope. No such luck. I look like a downed rat. I glimpsed downward. A frumpy drowned rat. Ugh! Who would want to look at this! Uh, not that I am dressing for anyone, or anything... But a girl has to have some standards! Heck, I _am_ wearing men's sweat pants and big stinky shirt with no discernible shape, for the love of mike! Any warm-blooded female would be ashamed to be seen in this. On the plus side the neck hole was HUGE and created instant peek-a-boo cleavage. Too bad the rest of me looks like a social security recipient cross-dresser. No one will take me seriously in this outfit. _Hell, Steph, Get a grip. You are from the Burg! You can take this head on. No mere outfit is gonna overcome the will of a jersey girl!_ With that thought I started rummaging through drawers**. AH-hah!** Just what I need. I took the scissors and started making alterations. When I was done I redressed and made the necessary refined adjustments. THERE! VOILA! Insta-burg! Workout Barbie couldn't hold a candle to me! Hell, neither could Linda Carter! I stuck my tongue out at my reflection. The woman looking back at me was striking in a I-am-going-jogging-in-a-tube-top kinda way. I had made a short pair of cutoffs from the long sweats and tied my hair back in a French braid securing it with a rubber band I found in the very back corner of the vanity drawer. My black shirt had the sleeves cut off and the midriff was exposed via eighties-style shirt knot. Something's missing. **Eureka** I pulled the neck hole askew so only one shoulder was exposed and a bit more top cleavage. Not too much. Didn't want to overdo, and fall out. This wasn't a distraction job. I just wanted certain people to know what they were missing by being pig-men! I **_am_** Wonderwoman! Contented, I exited the bathroom.

Stone was bent over a black leather duffel bag by his closet door with an object in his hand.

"What's that?" I pointed to the thingie.

"Geez, Jersey. Even I would think you would know a phone when you see one."

Big eyeroll.

"Smartass! I meant what kind? It looks fancier than my one at home…"

He answered without looking up. Hurriedly putting the phone back among the depths of the mysterious bag with whatever else was in there. My snoopy sense was in overdrive. I wonder what other goodies are lurking in there?

"It's a SAT phone."

Uh…

"You mean you have to use it sitting down?" I blushed and slapped a hand over my mouth. Okay. Even I knew that was a dumb question.

He chuckled heartily.

"**No.** I _know_ you didn't just say that!"

"Oh yeah, believe it. I've got a million other gems like that one, I've yet to reveal." I grumbled. I am so glad I am comic relief for Boulder-Boy.

"It's a satellite phone. Untraceable and encoded. You can use this practically anywhere on the planet due to the GPS." I must have looked blank because he clarified, "That's Global Positioning System." He shook his head. "Remind me to check to make sure you know how to take off the safety on your gun the next time you go to use it."

"Hey! I resent that! Where's _your_ gun? I'll demonstrate how _skilled_ I am."

He finally looked up and took in my appearance. A low wolf whistle followed.

"Geez, Jersey! I didn't know it was possible to still work the 'Flashdance' look as sexy. As much as I like, you gotta know you are really showing your born on date with that outfit."

"Screw you. I _like_ retro! You are just jealous because now you can't wear your Spuds Mackenzie shirt! Poor baby. I'm sure the 'Frankie says relax' will work just fine for today's festivities. It will go better with your stone-washed jeans." I laughed. "Get it? Stone washed?" I wiggled my eyebrows. "I kill me! You do remember those, don't ya? I bet some real loser still has a pair of those somewhere!"

I swear he blushed.

"OMIGAWD! You DIDN'T keep yours! Tell me that's a lie!"

"Hey, like you said, they are Retro. And they might be worth something someday." I laughed. He quickly changed the subject. "So about you and Manoso…"

Shit! I had been hoping He had forgotten about that. Well, that's what you get for wishing for champagne kisses and caviar dreams.

**To be continued in chapter 11…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

looking to left and right whew! Joanne isn't looking is she? pulls big floppy hat farther down on head and skulks in large trench coat

Pssst! Here is a tiny tidbit to wet your appetites. I know, I know, a blessing or a curse depending how you feel when you are done reading. looks over shoulder seeing guard appear Shoot better run. I hope no one rats me out. shuddering Damn flying monkeys! What are you laughing at Marcie! We better get! grabs Marcie and runs back to cell. ENJOY! C.)

**Chapter 11**

_"So about you and Manoso…"_

****

The guy was tenacious, I'll give him that.

"That's just it. There is no 'me and Manoso'. Not anymore. Heck, I'm not sure there ever was…"

"Okay. Cryptic much? Elaborate. Pronto."

Judas Priest. More monosyllabic commands from a man. This was not going to go a long way to improving my mood or my opinion of his gender on the whole.

I screwed up my nose, belligerently, and gave him _the_ Plum Stare. An oldie but a goodie, the Stare was the ultimate weapon. One not to be used or taken lightly. It works for my Mom. **Every.**** Damn. Time.** I can attest to that firsthand.

"**No**."

"Hey, don't shoot daggers at me. We were having a perfectly civil, if not terribly witty, conversation up until right now. Why not tell me?"

"Why should I have a conversation with _you_ about this? I don't know you from Adam, now do I?" I crossed my arms and dug in for a total hissy fit. I mean he's one of _them._ He's evil, dammit! Why should I trust a_... ugh…**MAN**. _I shivered from the taste of the foul word on my tongue.

Stone looked at me and for a split second I swear I saw another man underneath all that humor. No, not a man…whatever 'it' was scared the beegeebus outta me. No man could do that! Maybe a monster. Heck, you are talking to someone who _still _jumps on to her bed from a foot away at night so the bogey man can't grab her ankles. Dangerous guy, that Bogey man. By the way, hiding under your sheets is a good monster repellant, just in case you were wondering. It's worked for me so far.

Stone turned on his heel and started towards the door.

"Let's go then, Miss Priss. I'm not wasting time on this."

Shit.

"Sorry." He stopped. Seconds passed. He finally turned around.

"Forgiven… on one condition."

I don't like the sound of that. "Uh, okay. But what's the condition?"

"Nuh-uh." He wagged a finger in my face, scolding me. "Promise first or forgiveness not granted." Shit, he sounds serious!

"I can't blindly promise something to you. I mean what if you want me to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge or something…"

"You just uped the ante. Now it's two conditions. Care to make it three?"

GULP. He's mutha freakin' serious with this!

"UH...No. I mean, no to the three! Two is scary enough. _Yes_, I promise."

"Perfect." He finally smiled. Whew! For a minute there Stone was kinda freakin' me out. "Condition one: **_Never_** question my character again. I may be a lot of nasty things but I have a sense of honor. Don't insult me by questioning it, even in jest, ever again." Holy shit. He's genuinely pissed about this. I suspected it was an act, but… I quickly nodded my acquiescence. He seemed to lighten his mood then. UH-oh.

"Condition Two: You have to answer the question _honestly_ that I am about to ask you. And keep in mind I am a better human lie detector than Robert DeNiro."

"DAMMIT! I _knew_ this was just a trick! I am gonna cut off your…"

"Hold it right there, Mrs. Bobbitt! While I admit to using this situation to my advantage, it was not my _sole_ purpose." I eased back my venom. "…But it is a happy benefit." He smirked.

"You low-down scum sucking…"

"ah, _ah_, AH! Temper, temper. You promised!" I ground my teeth.

"What do you want to know?" I hissed.

"It's a two-parter."

"NO way! Nuh-uh. You said _one_ question. _One_ is all you get! You are a scumbag!"

"I get how ever many I want now that you just broke condition one." SHIT. Was he reincarnated and was a lawyer in a previous life?

"Devious bastard! Fine! But that's it!" He had so pleased with himself. It was written all over his damn face. I was barely controlling the urge to make him a soprano. The hard way! "Shoot."

"Tell me, what were the detailed circumstances of your relationship with Manoso, past and current tense?"

"Jesus, you don't ask for much, Stone!"

"Adding a third question if you don't answer in 5 seconds." He looked at his wristwatch. "Four, three, two..."

I panicked. "Ranger and I slept together! There, now you know."

"Geez. That was shocking, Jersey." He grabbed his chest dramatically. "GASP! You had RE-LA-SHUNS!"

"You aren't making this anyway easier on me."

"Sorry, habit."

"Shut your trap, sit back and enjoy. 'Cause I'm only gonna tell this story once."

He made the univeral sign of all serious confidants, the zipping of the mouth manuever.

"Classy, Stone. Classy with a capital "K."Anyway… where to start? You know," I sighed and walked to the edge of the bed and sat down with my head in my hands. "I haven't told anyone what I am about to tell you, _not a freakin' living soul_."

He sat next to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. "Then it's even better that I asked. You can't hold things in. Some secrets can eat a person up inside."

"Part of it's not a secret. Part of it is. Or was. Not after this morning." I closed my eyes and grimaced, remembering the events and subsequent conversation with Bobby. I shook my head to clear it. "But I'm sure some have guessed. Here it is, in a nutshell."

"Two years ago Ranger took me on as his pupil after a mutual friend requested that he help me with my bounty hunter skills, or in this case my lack thereof." I laughed remembering how truly shit-y I was at my job. "It's a wonder I survived as long as I did before I met him. Heck, even after I met him! I didn't take anything seriously. Not the stalkers, the death threats from rapists, and psychos coming and going in my apartment all hours of the day and night. But Ranger, he took it all in stride. He was fucking Batman! He knew everything, and boy was he ever mysterious! Do you know I never even knew where he lived during all that time? Still don't." I shook my head and looked at Stone. He was as blank faced as his name implied. Funny. Guess he doesn't think that is unusual in relationship. I soldiered on.

"He was the Henry Higgins to my Eliza Doolittle. He helped me numerous times over two years. I even helped him a time or two." I grinned remembering the mess I made with Ramos. "In that period we developed a relationship. I was in denial and thought it was only friendship for the longest time. I was still going out with a vice cop then." I smiled fondly at the thought of Morelli. He didn't piss me off so much now that he wasn't such a big factor in my life. Go figure. "The cop and I were tumultuous at best of times and homicidal at the worst. " I recalled our fights. "You should have seen our breakup." I shook my head. "But anyway, I'm off topic. Where was I? Oh yeah. Ranger and I danced a cat and mouse game of attraction. Charge and retreat. I was so off center. By the time my relationship with the cop was on the skids, Ranger must have had enough and that's when we made the deal." I sighed and stared into space. "That fucking deal." I shook my head and moaned.

I cleared my throat and began again.

"In exchange for helping me with a difficult skip…I would sleep with Ranger. Twelve hours he said." I shut my eyes not wanting to see Stone's face. I was still ashamed over the circumstances of that deal and how easily maneuvered I was.

"I gave in. I would like to be able to look you in the eye and tell you why, but even now I can't. It's beyond my comprehension. The man scared and yet exhilarated me all at the same time. Like a moth to the flame. When Ranger came to collect, I didn't object." Tears gathered in my eyes. FUCK That! No way would I give in and let him break me even now, just by recalling events! "I guess I thought he would admit that he felt something more for me than he had admitted to before. I know I did. But afterward, the next day, he told he to go back to the cop and works things out. That he didn't **_'do'_** relationships. That there was no room for me in his life. I didn't really believe him. Not even when he left me cold in that apartment. Not even when he didn't return my messages." I finally turned around and looked Stone in the eye for the first time since starting this sordid tale.

"Not even when he left town without a word."

Stone pulled me into a hug. I just snuggled in. It felt good. I know I really didn't know this guy but at the same time I did. I just _knew_ deep down somewhere that he was _safe_, somehow. Instinctually. It was sort of primeval in nature. Too weird.

"And now?" Stone startled me by asking the question. "Now what do you have?"

"I honestly don't know, but I do know one thing."

"What's that?"

"I know I can't do it anymore."

"You'll have to clarify, Jersey. I don't speak klingon, remember?" I barked a laugh.

"Yeah, I remember." I gave a watery smile. "I can't be a partner in that weird, messed up dance we had going on. I can't just pick up where we left off. Not even if I wanted to. Even though I had his respect and he had mine, Even though I trusted him with my very life… I couldn't trust him with my…um…other things." I finished lamely.

"So it's over?"

"Yeah. I guess it is. I don't think I figured that out until just now." I looked at him. "Thanks for helping me figure this out."

"No sweat, Jersey. Dr. Phil don't have nothin' on Big Daddy Stone." He beat his chest like an ape. How mature.

I wobbled a laugh. "Yeah."

"But we're not done here."

"Huh?" He held up two fingers and wiggled them.

"Two-parter, remember?"

"How could I forget…?" I grumbled. "You won't let me."

He smirked but sobered quickly. Double Uh-oh.

"So, second part:" I waited for the drum roll. GAWD, this man was too damn dramatic. It was like the second coming of Joan Rivers.

"Do you love him?"

**FUCK.**

"Wake up and answer! Avoidance, though I hear is your specialty, will not work with me. I won't LET you! Now answer. DO YOU LOVE RANGER?"

**To be continued in chapter 12…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON-PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

Thanks for the feedback and support, ladies. It's nice to be beloved, even if it's all in my mind… wiping a tear from eye truly, thank you. Makes this jaded little girl believe in Santa again. C.)

**Chapter 12**

_"Wake up and answer! Avoidance, though I hear is your specialty, will not work with me. I won't LET you! Now answer. DO YOU LOVE RANGER?"_

"Well, I think…I mean I thought…I mean…er… "Big sigh. "Can we do this later? When I can get my thoughts together?"

"Jersey." Stone grabbed my shoulders in a kung fu grip. "If we wait for that to happen, you won't have anything to worry about…"

HUH?

"…'Cause we'll both be long dead and buried." He smirked.

Total head smack! I groaned. Lord, preserve me from funny men! I punched him in the upper arm. "Shaddup, Tony Robbins! Ugh!"

"Hey! Watch the merchandise! I bruise easily." He yelled while rubbing his arm. I snorted and performed an Olympic caliber eye roll. "Well, its' true! I do." Stone sniffed disdainfully in my general direction. "I'm a Michelangelo, a delicate piece of high-brow art."

"You're right about that. Definitely a piece of somethin'…" I grumbled. "Hey, maybe even a delicate flower is possible too. It's amazing what beautiful plants can grow out of bullshit." I smiled up at him.

"Cute, Jersey. But seriously," He's not gonna back down. "How many times am I gonna have to threaten you, huh? Because I can back them up…"

"Apparently many, MANY times…" At his dark look I tacked on: " All right! All right! I got the picture. It's just that I'm not real clear on how I feel anymore, ya know? It's like this." I cleared my throat wondering how to start. "I feel like an Etch-a-Sketch."

Stone shot me a skeptical dagger. "OH-Kay. Etch-a-Sketch. Check. So you feel like a toy?"

I glared. "Hush. Let me explain. Visualize me as the Etch-a-Sketch. Say I have a picture that I had worked on for years, of what I thought was perfection. Something I thought, no, that I _believed _was everything I wanted…" I snorted, shooting him a grimace. "I guess, you could say that I was thinking I had a made myself my own Michelangelo's David. But then one day someone came along and shook me all to hell. And now…" I paused to gather my thoughts and tried again. "And now what I thought was perfection, the epitome of everything I desired, was just a bunch of magnetic slivers, a huge abstract mess at the bottom of a blank slate. Now the question is do I try to recreate that work," I looked at him intently. "That love…" I turned away from him and stared into space. I thought of all the times I had believed that Ranger felt something more for me. I thought about That Night. The night we finally came together so perfectly… "I thought he was telling me something more with that joining, but all it was, was flesh. Now that I know it isn't what I thought it was do I try to make him love me?" At this point I wasn't even aware Stone was in the room anymore. I had a floating feeling. Like I was outside myself looking in or something. I wonder if this is what's meant by the phrase out of body experience. I mentally shrugged. I guess its emotional shock. I've had the clinical shock so many times since becoming a bounty hunter that I could diagnose the symptoms from a million miles away.

"Jersey…Stephanie… You do know you can't make someone love you, right?" Stone jolted me by asking this loaded question.

"Uh, sorry. I guess I am talking a bit to myself here. Thinking out loud if you will." I shrugged and released the breath that I wasn't aware I was holding. "I think I realize that. I love him. He may never love me back. Thems the facts, Jack, and I guess I have to live with it." I joked trying to lighten the oppressive mood I had produced with this conversation. "Bobby's right. Fairy tale endings are for the birds! A part of me may always love Ranger but I need to move past it. Or at least recognize it and try to move on... To a normal relationship… if such a thing exists." I mumbled and then gave a little smile.

"Yeah, it exists, Jersey. You just have to be open to it. _Real love_ in a _grown up_ relationship exists. You just have to know when or where to look for it…"

"I think I should be offended by that grown up love comment, but part of me knows you're right." I turned to look at him. "I hate that, ya know…"

"Hate what?"

"When you are right. It's a disgusting habit you have developed. I think I liked it more when you were Billy BadBoy and I was Dudley Doright. The world seemed a little brighter then…"

"You are one messed up chick." I shot him the death rays and went to open my mouth, but he covered it with his Goliath paw before I could utter one scathing syllable. "But I like that about you. Besides, it's not like you are totally and solely responsible for your outcome." His eyes twinkled brightly.

I thought about my mother, the Burg, my farce of a marriage to the Dick, Morelli, heck even Vinnie! Ugh. "You have no idea…" I murmured. "But I will step up and take the ultimate blame." I laughed a little inside. If he could only meet the twisted menagerie that influences my life. A plan, with a capital 'P', hatched in my pea brain. Heh heh. Pay back for this forced heart-to-heart was gonna be a bitch for Beautiful Boulder Boy over here. I tried not to give away my thoughts.

"What's got you grinning like Sylvester the Cat, Jersey? It worries me to hear your wheels turn. All that rust makes them noisy."

_You, my friend, have no idea how VERY worried you should be._ I didn't rise to his bait and slapped on an innocent face. "Who me? Nah. Just relieved to have this conversation over and done with."

"Oh by no means is this over. I still have a very important question to ask you…" I looked at him, waiting as patiently as I could. We sat there several minutes, on that bed, just looking at each other. Like blank faced guppies.

"If I blink first does that mean you win?" Stone never even batted a single eyelash in response. I debated on crossing my eyes at him to spark a reaction, but I wasn't sure he'd appreciate the highbrowed caliber of that humor. Hey, what can I say, it worked in 4th grade. The classics never die. "Sooooo, ask away, Stoney Baby."

He just keeps staring expressionless. If his wheels were turning I sure as hell couldn't tell from here. "Uh, anyone home?" I waved my hand in front of his face. He grabbed it forcefully by the wrist. "Shit! That hurts, Stone!" Recognition flashed in his eyes and he eased back on his grip but didn't let go. "Dammit, Bam-Bam! What's with the passive aggressive demo? That hurt. I think you bruised me here."

He raised my palm to his mouth and kissed it. Can you say shocked? Hello! Uh, who the hell are you and what did you do with Rocky? Fortunately my brain wasn't reconnected to my mouth yet so all I did was gape slack jawed at him.

"Forgive me. It was an unconscious act. My reflexes are quick on the defense. Even to unsubstantiated threats."

Now how the heck do you follow up that comment! I went with the obvious route.

"Uh, S'okay. No harm, no foul." I giggled nervously.

"No. It's not okay." He examined my wrist, which was already sporting some pretty bad ass blue-ish purple indentations. "THIS..." he indicated by raising my wrist. "This is never okay. You didn't deserve it. I wasn't properly attuned to my environment and you paid the price for my lapse. I can never apologize enough for hurting you."

I erupted into fit of laughter. He cocked an eyebrow and didn't look very amused.

"What's so funny? I really don't see the humor in this…"

I cut him off. "You wouldn't. It's just that for over two years people have been telling me to be more aware of my surroundings and now that I have finally started getting my act together…" I guffawed a few sharp barks of spontaneous laughter before regaining some composure. "It's just that I'm not used to being the one present who **_is_ **aware of their surrounding and **_not_**getting the speech."

The corners of his mouth twitched. "Ah. I gotcha." He furrowed his brow. "Somehow I can't see you sitting still for a speech like that." He sobered. "But that doesn't detract from the seriousness of my error. I am a trained professional. That kind of lapse can get me…" he looked intensely into my eyes, "and those around me VERY DEAD. Do you forgive me?"

"Knock it off, please. It's just a little bruise."

"Jersey, I mean it, I…"

"Look if I say 'forgiven' could we can this and never speak of it again? I know it was an accident. Just don't do it again and we'll call it even. Besides, what got you so distracted that you drifted off like that? Had it been me I would have said I was thinking hard about something and..." A ton of bricks smashed down. "That's it, isn't it!" I shouted like I had said the word 'EUREKA!' I shook my head in disbelief. "You were pondering something, huh? Will wonders never cease. Proof of intelligent life on Planet Pebbles!"

He grinned. "Yeah, I just think a little quieter than some I could mention…" He held up a hand to ward off mine. "I'm a fast learner, too." He chortled.

"By the way, Plato, what was your question?"

"It can keep. We better hop to it and check in with Baby Sherman downstairs." He stood and looked at his watch, and pulled me to my feet. Huh, guess that means my presence is required too. Drat. "We are already late for the meeting."

"There was a set meeting? With a real check-in time and everything?" When he nodded I grumbled. "No one bothers to tell me ANYTHING!" I threw my hands up in the air before turning and stalking to the door. I flung it open and threw over my shoulder: "Are you comin', Pokey, or what?"

He grinned mischievously and I held up a hand as he walked in my direction. "Don't even bother to say it. I should have known you would go there. Let's move."

Stone shut his door and locked it. That's weird. No one else seems to bother to do that. I shrugged. He must be a privacy freak. Huh. Guess that duffle will have to wait its turn for the Snoop Express to arrive. Hmmm, I wonder if Lester still keeps his lock picking kit in his leather jacket. Heh heh. I mentally rubbed my hands together in glee. Can you say 'open sesame?'

Stone put his hand in the small of my back and propelled me down the hall. "You're right Skipper, darlin'. Lets get a move on. I want front row seats for the next show." I had forgotten all about the drama that I was sure was to come when Bobby, Ranger and I had to share the same air space. UGH! I slapped my head and tried to stop our forward momentum by becoming dead weight. Stone was having none of it.

"AWW, Jersey." Pulling me forward by wrapping an arm around my shoulders and picking me half off my feet, Stone propelled me to my doom. "Buck up."

"You do realize that you are possibly signing someone's death warrant by encouraging me to attend don't you? I mumbled under my breath" Possibly mine…"

"After the first jolt, Ol' Sparky is a nice ride. Texas is always singing its praises…"

"Did I mention I hate you?"

"Uh, let me think… uh yeah. I do recall something about hatred and my name in the same sentence."

"Just checkin'…"

**To be continued in chapter 13…**


	5. CEotCK Chapter 13 thru 16

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

this chapter is dedicated to Pauly Shore. A sin, I recently confessed to my fav priest and counselor. Please don't hold it against me. C.)

**Chapter 13**

The walk to the war-room was a long one. Much longer than the 5 minutes it actually took to get there. I kept gawking at my surroundings. I had never been to this Rangeman complex before. Everything was utilitarian but upscale. A tasteful minimalist look, if you will. And one that cost more money than I would ever see in one lifetime, let alone if I sold a kidney or something. I wonder if we are still in Trenton? I mean, with the helicopter ride and all we could be almost anywhere. I had no clue. Huh, that's probably why Tank did it. He knew that I couldn't track my way out here since we arrived by air, Crafty Devil. When we turned the last corner I knew the games had already begun. Les was standing guard outside the door.

"Hey Unca Les!" I breezed lightly. "What's shakin'?"

He looked incredulously at me. "Well, the roof soon…" he mumbled.

I made like I was going to dart around him to open the door and Lester stopped me with a gentle tug on my shirt. I felt like the road runner. My feet were still spinning in mid-air. When he set me back on the ground, I looked up into his gorgeous face.

"HEY! Watch the threads! They're designer you know." I sniffed at him disdainfully. He started to grin but stopped short of the full enchilada.

"Uh, Steph. Not a good idea right now. Orders are to give them a few minutes. Absolutely no interruptions."

"Give who a few minutes?" I propped my hands on my hips and stared him down, Wild West style.

"Uh, no can do, Stephanie. On a need to know basis." I glared.

"And YOU" I poked him in the chest, "don't think that I need to know, HUH!"

"Cut me some slack, Stephanie. It's been a rough morning."

"Preachin' to the choir buddy!" He finally grinned.

"Yeah." He sobered. "But forming a bond with me ain't gonna cut you any slack. I already know what our relationship is. You can't use it to make me look the other way so you slip inside!"

"Would **_I_** do such a thing!" I fluttered at him innocently.

He chuckled. "Yeah, Beautiful, you would."

"Oh, finally! I thought you had forgotten that nickname. I thought we had gone to a weird place. I don't know how to deal with you when you aren't trying to cop a feel and whisper sweet nothings in my ear."

He stepped forward and backed me against the wall next to the doorway. He leaned in, with hands on either side of my head, invading my personal space. "I can show you SOMETHING sweet, baby girl." He wiggled his eyebrows.

I pushed on his chest and growled: "Violating the 12 inch rule, Unca Lech!" I shut my eyes realizing…

Lester leaned in and breathed against my neck: "Twelve inches, huh? I feel flattered." DAMMIT. That's what I get for speaking before I think.

"Retract your tentacles, Lechy, before I am forced to get ugly on your hiney!" I poke him in the chest repeatedly emphasizing my point. "And don't think I mean in the looks dept! I can still dish out a good beat down, I had a good teacher!"

Before he could respond, he disappeared from my sight. I looked over at Stone who was grinning wickedly and holding Lester down on the floor with a boot to the nape of his neck.

"I owed you one, Jersey." He said by way of explanation when I gaped at him in wonder. "Besides, I like it when you make that fish-face. Kinda reminds me of that Nemo character. Do you share the same markings on your skin? Shall we check?" He released Lester without losing track of where he was and crossed his arms over his chest. "I play doctor well, remember?" He raised his furry brow suggestively.

I crossed the space between us and made my move. I faked a jab to the ribs and when he went to block I frapped him in the back of the head with my hand. "Look here, Doctor Doolittle! It's illegal in about 49 states to do what you are thinkin'. So put your stethoscope away. There ain't no grope and poke in your future!" I growled.

All this time Les was still sitting on the floor, looking up at the two of us in wonder. "If I didn't see it with my own eyes I wouldn't believe it!"He turned to face me head on. "What did you do to him!" He gestured to Stone with a head bob. "I would never have thought he had a sense of humor. Christ almighty! It's like finding out that you can get blood from a turnip! Or in this case a stone." He shook his head in disbelief.

I volleyed my looks between Les and Stone. What! He has never cracked a joke around these guys! I wanted to scratch my head, perplexed beyond all reason. THE MAN that had NEVER _stopped_ making wise cracks since I _arrived_…without a sense of humor! Wonders never cease!

"Look, Les." Stone gestured to me. "You made her speechless. I never would have thought it possible without 2 tons of masking tape and concrete shoes."

"Two in one day…" Les stuttered and looked out the window. "The guys will never believe this…" He got up on his feet still gazing out the window, sightlessly.

"Uh, Les. Whatcha lookin' at?" I ventured, worried.

Stone cut off any response Les might have made. "He's probably looking for the four horsemen of the apocalypse. Being end times and all…"

With that he chuckled and leaned back against the wall to watch Les and I…Dumb and Dumber.

Les just gaped at Stone and I in turn. He walked over to me and said: "You have a habit of making guys do the strangest things, Beautiful. Not that I'd complain, but…"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean!" I went into an Amazon battle stance, ready to take out this fowl specimen before me.

"Well, first Ranger. And well, Tank too. He has never taken the time or initiative to train a new recruit. And never a woman… OH! And let's not forget Bobby. The man who is currently serving his ass on a platter even now because of…" he groaned.

"So, Bobby is in there, huh?" I patted him on the back. "Thanks for the info, Les. Couldn't have done it without you…"

"He's gonna kill me!"

"Which one?"

"Pick one! Any of the three will do it!" He groaned again. "DAMMIT! How do you do that! I know what you are capable of, and yet I still walk into your traps. Maybe it's time for retirement. Bested by a novice…"

"It's okay, Gramps. There comes a time in every horse's life when…"

"If you say 'to be put out to pasture', I'll strangle you."

"Nah. I was gonna say 'the glue factory is the only humane option,' but whatever floats your boat." I shrugged while Les dropped his head in his hands.

"She thinks she is so DAMN cute! ARGGHhh!"

Stone walked over to me and slung an arm around my shoulders possessively. "I think she is too." He tweaked my nose. "Just look at her. Like biscuits and gravy."

"Uh, thanks I think." I mumbled.

"Well, you can have her!" Lester muttered loudly.

"What a good idea, Lester." With that he turned to face me. "Remember that question that could wait 'til later, Jersey?"

Where's he going with this? I nodded dumbly. "Uh-yeah."

His eyes twinkled. "It's later."

"Shoot." I have no idea where he is going with this. He pulled me into an embrace and smiled down into my face.

"How'd ya like to go out with me Saturday night? 8 o'clock. Dinner and dancin'. A real grown up date. A guided tour around your home turf, if you will… Whatcha think? How 'bout it?" He waited patiently with a twinkle in his eye.

Shit. This DEFINETLY wasn't the expected destination. I was flabbergasted!

"Uh…well, isn't that a bit like Luke Skywalker and Darth Vader going out? I mean, hello! Mortal enemies and all! Lord Vader didn't cut off Luke's hand and then smile and say: 'Gee, maybe we could get together for a coffee or something later.' OH No! That's just messed up."

Stone just continued to smile. I squirmed in his grasp, but he didn't release me. "Now, Jersey…" He clucked his tongue at me. "It's not mortal combat. We can still trade barbs AND kisses. Think about it and get back to me. Oh! And by the way…gross! Incest is not cool. I knew rednecks liked that sorta thing but I'm surprised at you."

I just gaped stunned at him. "There is no way, you hear me! N-O-W-A-Y that we are going out together! It's just wrong somehow…" I grumbled.

"Don't worry." He chuckled and released me but still kept an arm slung low across the small of my back, sending shivers down my spine to my toes. "I won't let you off that easily. I'll keep askin'. I find that 'resistance is futile'. You will eventually give in to me." He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

"Uh, no I won't! I'm not that desperate, really! Besides let's address this new issue. I never figured you for a Trekkie, Pebbles. Maybe a Dungons and Dragons type but…Trekkie. NAH! Too many big words for you to misinterpret."

"Oh Ho. Te he. It 'tis funny. Oh, har har. What it is to laugh."

"Shut up, Daffy."

Lester finally recovered. "You two are crazy! Freakin' certifiable! And you!" He thrust a finger at me. " YOU need to stop charming every Y chromosome you come across! You are like kryptonite! I never thought I would see this killer rock crack a joke, never mind see him date! GOOD LORD! Maybe it is the apocalypse! You two look like harvengers of death. Mine, I might add. Oh yeah." He shook his head in amazement. "Never thought I would live to see the day the 'Dark Assassin' would laugh."

Stone immediately tensed. "LESTER." Oh shit! That's a new tone for Stone. "You might still get to see that day…it could be _today_."

Lester giggled nervously. LESTER! GIGGLING LIKE A SCHOOL GIRL! This WAS a landmark day in history!

"Oh yeah. Sorry. Won't happen again." Oh GAWD! Now he's shuffling his feet! What next? Blushing?

"See that it doesn't." Stone growled. Poor Lester. He is taking a beating from everyone today. Well, better for me not to be alone in my torment. I sighed.

**BANG! CRASH!**

What the! I turned to look at Les and Stone. When my eyes came back to rest on Les I growled: "GET OUT OF MY WAY, SANTOS!"

He blocked the door again, even though I could tell he was worried too. "NO WAY!"

"Move it or lose it!"

Before I could think of a maneuver to use on Lester, Stone stepped up.

"Come on, Santos. Just move. I agree with her and I've got her back. Don't make me rearrange your anatomy." He stated coolly.

Lester sighed in defeat. "Fine. Nuts! Someone has to punch me here. "He gestured to his face. "That way I won't get busted down to private for this stunt." Before Stone could respond, I smirked: "My pleasure, Lechy Baby!' and planted an uppercut to his cheekbone. He must not have been ready for it, because he fell on his butt.

"DAMN. I should have known…"

"Yeah, well. Now you are home free. Open up and get outta my way!"

He stood and unlocked the door giving the key to Stone as he stepped back. "May God go with you." He stated solemnly.

"Yeah, I have something righteous on my side all right!" I said while shaking my fist at my side. "Let's go, Stone."

Stone just chuckled. "I've got the flank. You take point." HUH? Whatever. I guess that means I am going in first. Cool. Wouldn't have it any other way. I turned the doorknob…

**To be continued in chapter 14…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON-PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

Dedicated to our new authors…Ice, Meghan, Kristi, Sarah… who have bravely taken up the gauntlet. I am really enjoying your stuff. Keep 'em comin'. And to all our seasoned veterans…keep 'em coming too! I am addicted and need my fix. I have the shakes…need more…swallowing hard ugh. I hate withdrawal. C.)

**Chapter 14**

Meanwhile…in the war room…several minutes prior… 

Tank clenched and unclenched his fists while watching Ranger pace the room. Back and forth. Back and forth. He felt his anger and disbelief war within himself along that same ebb and flow rhythm. He couldn't believe that Steph would choose Bobby. It's not that there was anything wrong with the man it was just that he was Tank's friend and not… Oh Fuck. He shut his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. Why didn't he see it before? He should know the warning signs intimately by now since he watched his best friend fall in love with the exact same woman. Tank groaned, low and feral. Well, he might be his former best friend after this revelation. What was he going to do? Well, for starters he would stop this thing with Bobby in its tracks! Tank grimaced and plotted. He jerked his head up and looked at Ranger. He sure as hell was not going to screw things up like Ric did. This was something that had to be handled delicately but in a straight forward manner. He didn't want to end up saying and doing all the things that his friend had. Man, if Ric had just opened his eyes and said what he felt… No, he wouldn't make those same mistakes. He stroked his head absently and then pushed off the wall to cross the room to the intercom system.

Meanwhile…(again) Int. Bobby's Bedroom…

Les looked at Bobby and frowned. "Dammit Brown! What the hell are you thinking! What are you doing! He's gonna kill you, ya know? D-E-A-D. Dead!"

Les started stalking the room like a rampaging gorilla at the zoo. Bobby watched him and wondered when he would finally flip out and eat a tourist. He smiled to himself at that picture.

"Dammit! What the fuck are you smiling for! Jesus! Don't you get it? You are going in that room and Ranger is gonna rip off your head and if you're lucky, he won't string you up by your balls afterwards!"

"Calm down, Les. You know, you can be such a drama queen sometimes…"

"Goddammit! NO! Don't tell me I'm overreacting here!" He lunged at Bobby and pinned him to the wall in a choke hold with his forearm. He leaned in, practically spitting in his face. "YOU tell me to calm down…YOU, the man who was just declaring his love for his boss's woman. YOU, the man who is seeing said boss in the next few minutes. FUCKIN' YOU, The IDIOT that will die a horrific death and his poor partner will be forced to clean up the mess YOUR body makes! JESUS! You just don't GET IT!" Lester thrust away from Bobby violently. Most likely in an effort not to take the choke hold to a more serious level. "Fuck man! Look what you are doing to ME!" He spied something on the floor and picked it up. Les leaned over and thrust Stephanie's pants in Bobby's face. "LOOK WHAT are you DOING to HER! How could she do this…"

He was cut off by a fist to the kidney and fell to the floor in a limp boneless pile.

"Watch what you say about Steph, man!" Bobby raged over Les, his partner for the last 4 years. He shook his head in disgust. The one man he thought would understand. It figured. "I love her. Yes, she loves me. But it's a familiar love. A Brother-Sister thing. I should be so lucky to find someone like her, to fall **_in love_** with, but we don't have that. We LOVE each other because she is my family and I am hers. DAMMIT! I may not be blood but I have taken better care for her feelings and health than any of those damn judgmental Plums!"

He stood over Les and sighed. Lester thought that Bobby may have finally snapped also, and was about to kick his ass. Hell, he should. He felt like an ass.

Bobby surprised him by thrusting a hand down in Lester's face, offering him a hand up. Les wasn't suicidal. He took it.

"Look, man, I'm sorry. I walked in and saw you two together and I jumped to conclusions. Especially hearing the Bomber declare her love for you. I mean, wow. You'd have been a little confused too. That statement from the woman who emotes about as well as Ranger. It's no wonder they never hooked up. They, both, are too weirded out by feelings." He paused. "Well, I thought they BOTH were. I guess Steph is different." Lester felt perplexed right now and he wanted to go lie down and take a longgggg nap. Just like Rip Van Winkle. Hey, it works for Steph! Why couldn't it work for him? He was willing to try avoidance for once.

"Oh, I think that they DEFINETLY hooked up. Let's just say the boss's reaction this morning left no doubt about that. But it has done one thing."

"What's that?"

"It's pissed her off. She's confused and hurt." Bobby shot Les a significant look…which Lester correctly interpreted.

"Shit! And I thought you and Ranger being in the same room was gonna be bad…It's gonna be world war three down there!" Lester flopped down on the bed and cradled his injured side. "Jesus." He looked back up at Bobby. "Can things get any worse? Shit. DON'T answer that! Just try to keep the body count down, okay? I was serious about that body cleanup comment. I hate being the cleaner. Fucking blood never comes outta my clothes."

"I can't make promises, man. When's the last time any of us could predict a situation between Steph and Ranger?"

"Okay. Never. I got it." Les groaned.

"Yeah. That's right, never. Plus now she'd trained, armed and dangerous. Well…maybe not lethally armed." Bobby grinned. "I managed to hang on to her gun." He said gesturing to said weapon before putting it in the waistband of his pants in the small of his back and throwing a shirt on. "Now we just have to keep her from it."

"No, Bobby. You're wrong there." Les grinned. "YOU have to keep her from it. Ten to One says that Tank and Ranger ban me from the room. Betcha next week's pay on it."

"I'll take that bet. Tank can't want Ranger and I loose without more muscle in the room."

The two men shook on it to seal the deal.

"Shit. We better get going…"

Just then a buzz sounded and Tank's disembodied voice boomed out of the speaker of the intercom. "SANTOS!"

"Fuuuuckkk…"

"I HEARD THAT, SANTOS. GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE. PLAYTIME IS OVER…AND BRING BROWN DOWN HERE ASAP! NO FUCKING JERKING OFF, EITHER. I WANT YOU TWO HERE YESTERDAY!"

With that they heard the signal of the intercom clicking off. Bobby and Lester's eyes met over the bed. Both aware they were in for one fucking wild ride.

"The Lord so sayeth and so shall we obey," Lester joked.

"Yeah. Laugh now. It may be the last time for quite awhile…"

"You're right. Too bad there isn't time for a shot of liquid courage." Lester bemoaned as they walked to the door side by side. Before they reached the hallway, Bobby grabbed Lester's shoulder and stopped his forward motion.

"There's something you should know, Lester."

"Brown, if you tell me you love me I'll kill you." Lester quipped. Bobby didn't laugh.

"Close, but not quite. She loves him, man. He left her and never told her ANYTHING. Never told her why he was leaving." Bobby let that sink in, before speaking again. "And I think that they slept together without things being cleared up."

"GAWD DAMN." Lester slammed his fist against the very door that Ranger had decimated that very morning. "Can't they do anything the easy way?"

"No. What's worse is that I think there may be something more to this situation. Something that may have mucked things up even worse. I don't think that she should take him back. He doesn't deserve it. He obviously screwed himself royal this time."

"You are just saying that because of Junie…"

"Don't mention her name again, Lester." Bobby growled.

Lester held his hands up, warding off Bobby's wrath. "Look, man. I just meant you two are going to have to talk about it and resolve things or…"

"There is nothing to resolve. She's dead. And so is my relationship with him. Don't bring it up again." With that Bobby strode from the room, leaving Lester staring after him. This was going to be one bass ackward day, Les was sure of it.

**To be continued in chapter 15…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON-PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

This is one chapter that appeared only due to threats of flying monkeys, a couple shots of tequila (don't ask) and one HORRIBLE nightmare. Who needs a muse when flying monkeys are harassing you? grimacing sorry, I didn't mean it muse-baby! Please don't leave me for another gal! I promise, baby, I'll be good. poutingC.)

**Chapter 15**

_This is the end of the road_, Les thought and tried to swallow ideas of escape. He may be one bad mamba jamba ex-ranger muscle head, but he knew his limitations. Not to mention good survival instincts. He had to do one thing first before they went to battle. He managed to jog up and catch Bobby by the shoulder before he could reach the conference room door.

"Hey man. Wait up." When Bobby turned to face him, Lester saw that he was still spoiling for a fight. Shit, this wasn't good. If Bobby went in _there_ with that look on his face you might as well roll out the body bags now. Les decided to take one for the team, _literally_.

"Look," he said while dropping his hand from the aforementioned shoulder at the death glare he receives. He cleared his throat. "Look, man. Listen up, 'cause I don't admit this much. I was wrong earlier about Steph and asking about..." at the dark look Lester amended, "er... and about _you-know-who_. I know you said not to mention it, but I honestly think that it needed to be said. AND before you go tearing my head off…I just wanted to let you know, you were right. I should not have brought _that_ up right now." He gazed at Bobby trying to read his volcanic eruption status. Hmm, still looks habitable on the island, might as well go for broke. "If it makes you feel better, slug me. I have it comin'. Really, I do. I won't hold it…OOOHHHFFPPttt!"

_Okay, wrong again, Santos._ Hot magma was pouring down around his ears. He was never going to change vocations to vulcanite.

He stared at Brown warily before Bobby again offered Lester a hand up to his feet. Once he was restored to a vertical position, Lester rubbed his jaw.

"I am starting to think that I should just paint a bull's-eye on my head. Would simplify things." Lester groaned.

"Well, it would improve _my _aim and you _do_ act like an ass a lot, might be a prudent idea." Bobby quipped and grinned. "It's alright man. We're good. Oh and thanks."

"For what?"

"For letting me wail on a safe target. It helped. I don't feel near as homicidal now. Merely…" Bobby searched for the appropriate word. "Merely crazed and disturbed." Bobby wanted to laugh at the incredulous look on Lester's face.

"Damn. And here I thought I was being all subtle like." Les snorted. "Figures. Well, anyway, glad to help. Good to know I am good for something 'round here. Do you think Tank will let me add 'Official Punching Bag' to my business card?"

Bobby laughed and slapped Les on the back. "Nah, he would probably just offer to take your cards away completely." Bobby looked at Les and sobered. "Thanks again man, you're a good partner. I won't forget this." He leaned over and the two men embraced in the awkward one-arm-and-fist-thump maneuver that men are so good at performing and then stepped away.

"Yeah, yeah. That's what you say…until the next time you punch me. I'm not holding my breath." The two men laughed for a moment releasing some of their tension. After it died down, they regarded each other silently.

"Well, time to face the executioner. Do you think we will even get around to the official meeting afterwards?" Les pondered out loud.

"Yeah, Ranger is efficiently all business, even after murder. You should know that." They both were silent at that thought. "Come on, Les. Let's go. No point in delaying the inevitable. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Why did you have to go and say that, JESUS!" Les shuddered.

"It's now or never."

"I vote for never."

"Chicken liver."

"Yeah, well, at least I'd be a _safe _chicken liver." Les observed.

Bobby pushed Les forward towards the door. "C'mon."

Lester paused to cross himself. (It always worked for his mama.) He opened the door and strode inside with Bobby trailing confidently behind.

"WHERE THE FUCK HAVE YOU BEEN!"

Lester exchanged a look with Bobby over his shoulder. They were so fucked.

"We're here, boss."

"Oh yeah. NOW you are. WHAT IN THE HELL TOOK SO LONG, HUH? I said YESTERDAY! Are you deaf now, SANTOS?"

Lester and Bobby both were stunned to a certain degree. If Ranger was the all business Mercurial Man, Tank was the Ice Man in contrast. He never let things get to him, Fuckin' NEVER. Even now with their former boss tearing a new hole in his ass, Tank should not have been this angry. Bobby and Les both separately wondered how to handle this new complication, without success.

"Uh… No, Sir." Les snuck a glance at the wall clock. Shit. It had only been five minutes since Tank had paged them from Mount Olympus. "We followed orders, Sir. Reporting for briefing, Sir." Les barely controlled the urge to salute. He was falling back to basic training behavioral safeguards. He hadn't been this unsure of anything in his life since... well…since _he was in _basic training. This is bad. Hell, at one point he even was the one busting balls when he was in charge. Now he was counting them. Damn, talk about regression.

"Goddammit, Santos! If I can't TRUST you to show up on TIME, how can I trust you to…" Tank clenched his jaw shut. "Forget it. JUST GET OUT."

HUH? Les and Bobby exchanged another covert look. Okay, Les knew he would be kicked out. And yeah, now he would win the bet, but it wasn't going down the way he imagined. Bobby shrugged at Lester's visual plea for aid.

"Uh, Boss. Don't you think that maybe you might need me here?" He said shooting a look to point out Ranger while he spoke. Evidently Tank didn't appreciate that. "SANTOS, if you were paid to think for me I'd _tell_ you! Now GET OUT. We need a few minutes. YOUR JOB is to make sure there are _absolutely no interruptions_Got that! Or am I going too fast for you!"

**_Hell No_**, Les thought but what he said was: "Yes, Sir! Right away, Sir!" With that he turned at attention and walked toward the door to leave. When he passed by Bobby he whispered: "Better make that cold, hard cash, Brown. The bank won't cash a check from a dead man."

Bobby might have found the humor in that comment had he not been about to be ground up like dog chow. Especially since the man running the grinder was not the man he expected. He sighed.

"WHAT'S THAT, SANTOS! DID YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO ADD?"

Fuuucckk.

"NO, SIR! NOTHING TO ADD, SIR!"

"Good. Dismissed."

With that, Les released a mental sigh and left. It would be safer on the other side of that door anyway. Now he had nothing to worry about, except for, you know, scraping up bloody body parts later.

Bobby, on the other hand, was gearing up for major damage control. Lord knows what Ranger had told Tank to make him this angry. Hell, the fact that Ranger had yet to say ONE word, had Bobby worried. There may have been some loyalty between Bobby and Ranger at one point and time but it had long since died, long before this newest epic saga with Stephanie. The good thing was that though Ranger stilled owned Rangeman Inc. he didn't have complete control of the Trenton office anymore. That was given over to Tank when Ranger left over seven months ago. Bobby breathed a sigh of relief at that. At least he knew he wasn't going to be fired right off the bat. Tank was a stable guy. He wouldn't let Ranger go that far in search of vengeance.

"Tank, I…"

"BROWN, SIT DOWN."

This was not going well. Understatement of the century. If he could just get Tank's attention for a few minutes he was sure things would be cleared up and Tank would back down. So, therefore, Bobby didn't debate sitting down. He just did it. He waited for Tank to speak. He was a quick study, that Bobby.

"Before we have our tactical meeting about the recent breech in security I think we should clear something up." _Good_, thought Bobby, _He might just be reasonable about this after all. _"We need to clear up your role here at Rangeman." Okay, this was not going where he thought it was going. "From this moment on you are off all distractions, takedowns, and stakeouts. You have Comm Duty for the next six months, or how ever long I deem necessary."

"WHAT THE FUCK? This isn't about Comm Duty, Tank. This is about STEPHANIE! You don't want me working with her! Jesus! I thought the puppet master over there" he said thrust his finger in Ranger's direction, "was not pulling the strings anymore. Boy was I fucking mistaken!" Bobby raged. During the course of Tank's brow beating, he had leapt from his chair and circled the conference table to confront his former boss, face to face.

"That's it, huh, Ranger? You couldn't stand the thought that maybe another man is taking care of something you abandoned. Or is the fact that she WANTS ME in her life and not you!" He emphasized his point by shoving his finger in Ranger's brooding face. "YOU can't stand that she doesn't fucking need you anymore, nor does she want you! She has US now. The guys and I are the ones who have been helping her, training her these last few months. It's been US who have been teaching her everything her precious BATMAN wouldn't. You could never do that, HUH! No! That would have meant you would be helping to make her more independent and less needy. Then she wouldn't need you to come to her rescue anymore. Maybe then she wouldn't call you anymore. OH NO! It's all about Ranger and _his_ _fucking needs!_ You never could do anything for the sheer sake of helping someone. You never could be there for someone when the need you! YOU FAIL EVERY-**_fuckin_****_'_**-TIME!" By this point Bobby was shaking in anger. Jaw clenched, fists balled menacingly, pacing like a wildcat eyeing it prey, waiting for it to show weakness. Tank interrupted before violence could erupt.

"HE HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH THIS DECISION, BROWN. IT'S _MY_ CALL, _MY_ COMPANY, AND _MY_ OPINION AND MOTIVATION THAT COUNTS. MY…"

Ranger lunged from the spot he had appeared to be rooted in, and at Bobby's throat. Tank grabbed him before the shit hit the fan.

"LET ME GO TANK!" Ranger spewed.

"NO FUCKING WAY."

Bobby chose that moment to add his two cents. "No TANK, let him try if he can! It's about time we danced. It's been COMING for a long time and we are WAY past overdue!" Bobby rounded Tank's shoulder and tried to pry him off Ranger to get a potshot. Tank was seriously regretting his earlier loss of control over his temper. Now Lester wasn't here to hold back the second fuckin' IDIOT. SHIT! _THIS _was why he didn't allow himself the luxury of losing control on regular basis. It had a tendency to bite him in ass!

"BACK OFF BROWN! YOU TOO RICARDO! We are gonna settle this like grown men not fuckin' GORILLAS! Hit your respective corners, NOW!" _Shit when did he have to become Mills Lane!_ Tank grumbled mentally.

"Let him through, CHUCKIE. It's time for us to have this DANCE as this asshole puts it. I WELCOME IT! Though he's not much of challenge! YOU NEVER WERE A CHALLENGE, BROWN!

**_WHAT THE FUCK! _**Chuckie! CHUCKIE! **_FUCKIN' CHUCKIE! _**No way did he just say that! Tank fumed internally.

Ranger realized what he had just said and momentarily dismissed Bobby from his thoughts.

"What did you just call me?" Tank asked in a calm even voice. Most men, who knew the big man, knew there were several things you did not do with Tank. One: you never cracked jokes about his mama. Two: Never ask Tank about his woman. THREE, and the most important: Never, EVER call Tank by his given name, or even his middle name for that matter. The name he was given at birth was so foul to Tank that he didn't even acknowledge it as his own. His middle name was Charles, which by the half was not NEAR as bad as his first, BUT someone, back in the day, nicknamed Tank after a certain possessed toy doll. THAT NAME **_almost _**pissed him off as much as his given name. When silence met Tank's question he reiterated it, just in case someone had gone miraculously deaf in the last few seconds.

"_I SAID_: **WHAT. DID. YOU. JUST. CALL. ME!"** Tank was beyond the breaking point. Let these assholes kill each other. What the FUCK did he care! No one else apparently does. Let them do whatever they want to each other. HE was DONE! He was washing his hands of the whole thing. Tank walked over to Ranger and pushed him against the wall and searched him. He confiscated two guns, 2 knives and a set of brass knuckles. That was new. Usually Ric avoided those. _Looks like things have changed_, Tank mentally sighed. Guess he didn't know his friend that well anymore, but who the fuck cares. When he was done he shoved a startled Bobby to the conference table, bending him over on his stomach. He found only one gun on him and a single knife. _Traveling light today_, Tank smirked. Though he was confused about the gun, the Browning Hi-Power looked like Steph's. It just reminded Tank of where and when Bobby must have palmed it. Tank growled. OH YEAH. LET THEM FUCKING KILL EACH OTHER. Plus this way they have the added challenge of doing it with their bare hands. ASSHOLES. He backed away with all the paraphernalia tucked away on his person, except for the Browning, STEPH's BROWNING. He growled a second time, this one more feral and low. He walked over to the chair at the head of the table and sat regally, laying the gun on thigh with his palm over it, casually pointed in the general direction of the TWO IDIOTS.

Bobby was sufficiently startled by the growl. In fact he was so engrossed on keeping an eye on Tank as he backed away from the table that he didn't see or hear Ranger growl and lunge for him. Bobby hit the table with a loud **BANG!** Ranger maneuvered for Bobby's throat trying to get a forearm over his windpipe, but Bobby was not at the right angle and was able to roll away. The two men spun away like animals in heat, all legs and arms flying, with no other discernable shape.

Tank smirked, and tapped the gun possessively. He almost wanted to take out the winner of this little battle, whom ever it might be, just for the simple fact that both of the men were total emotional fuck-ups. Yes, if it weren't for the witnesses that were on the complex it was not a bad plan at all. Besides, he could always bribe the reluctant ones, he mentally plotted. BUT there was STEPH. Tank sighed, She wouldn't look the other way, Dammit! She wasn't that far in the game yet, a pity really. It might have been fun to teach these two a lesson. Just as he had that thought he finally saw Ranger get a solid grip on Bobby to choke him. The two men had sufficiently beaten the daylights out of each other while Tank had been plotting double homicide. What surprised all three men is when the table groaned. It was already cracked form earlier abuse and gave way. The two opponents rolled among the debris still angling for a death grip. Tank supposed he should stop this soon. He smirked and thought: _Well, maybe in just one more minute… _Just then a second crash was echoing through the appropriately named War-Room. The door lurched open to reveal a **_VERY _**angry Stephanie and a characteristically stoic Stone. Jesus, what else could go wrong. DAMN SANTOS! He was going to pull every shit job for millennia for this breech.

He smiled at Stephanie over the two, in spite of everything, tussling men and said: "WELCOME! Welcome. Happy to see we have an audience now. Pull up a seat."

He knew he had just punched a button that couldn't be recovered from. Stephanie stalked towards Tank, and stepped over the two men to reach him. Tank saw the gleam in her eye and could only speculate as to what she would do next. He would never in a million years have won any contest for his guess, because Steph slapped him hard across the face. Tank was beyond stunned. Slack-jawed with disbelief was more accurate. She moved fast and recovered the gun from Tank's possession. She motioned him over to stand near the two other IDIOTS and needlessly cocked the hammer. **SHIT**. _Maybe he was wrong_, Tank mused, _She sure looked like she could look the other way now…_

**To be continued in chapter 16…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

_To Ellie_: in hopes that she will make a little rock N roll for us in the future…and that she'll throw us a bone of TEN &SIN. Here's to keeping hope alive. ROCK ON! clanging champagne flute against Marcie's helmet Heh heh! AND _to Marcie_ who keeps me from biting too many of the pedestrians on the corner where we perform our little 'show.' C.)

**Chapter 16**

Stone just chuckled. "I've got the flank. You take point." HUH? Whatever. I guess that means I am going in first. Cool. Wouldn't have it any other way. I turned the doorknob…

To say I was angry would be an understatement. I thought I was pissed at Lester for keeping me out of this room but as I turned the doorknob I realized that was a mere drop in the bucket compared to what I was feeling now. The first sight that greeted my eyes was Bobby and Ranger locked together like two amateur wrestlers on the floor rolling in debris, which I can only guess, was formerly a table. Normally this might be intriguing since I am a fan of any sport that features men in small tight pants (I mean, have you ever seen the Rock! _Hello!_), but in this case I was making an exception. The two men that I thought were the most influential in my life and the most sane…**_were trying to kill each other!_** The two men in my life_, the man I thought of as my brother _and my… well… I guess _ex-lover_ is the only correct word, were _rolling_ like two hogs in a sty, for Petes's sake! Filthy animals! I just couldn't wrap my mind around it.

Even as I thought I had reached the zenith of my rage and incredulity, I spied Tank. **_That_** fucking asshole was just sitting there in a chair with a gun resting in his hand with an evil grin on his face looking for all the world like it was just another day at the races. One more cheap thrill to watch for amusement and profit. I'm not sure what that profit was but you can bet your ass I was gonna find out! No one, and I mean _NO ONE_, was gambling on _this_ pony! And then, just when I thought that _maybe_ I could dismiss this entire scene as just some random manic episode of idiotic masculine behavior, Tank spoke.

"WELCOME! Welcome. Happy to see we have an audience now. Pull up a seat."

I snapped. I entered a place I thought only existed in action or horror movies. _You know the on_e. The place filled with bazookas, hand grenades, killer dogs, rocket launchers, semi-automatics with endless rounds of ammo and possessed cars. I was so angry I ceased to worry. In fact, I believe I ceased to think 'normal' rational thoughts. A burning heat seeped through my body. And to think I thought all those years 'seeing red' was just a colorful phrase used by housewives to scare the kiddies.

I dismissed the Moronic Duo still grappling on the floor and stepped over them to reach Tank. Which didn't even seem to matter anyway, they hadn't even bothered to stop long enough in their death match to acknowledge my presence. Huh, just goes to show what a lethal mix blood lust, stupidity and abundant testosterone could be. Or maybe that's an oxymoron, whatever. Well, they _all_ were going to find out how dangerous a jersey girl on a mission could be! Okay, a jersey girl who just _happened _to be a bounty hunter with knowledge of army and martial art fighting skills…oh and did I mention my new found love of guns? Speaking of guns…

As I stalked towards Tank, I realized two things. The first was I didn't have my gun on me. The second point hit me like an Acme Anvil. THE asshole in front of me, the man I thought was Dr. Cool, the original Iceberg, a.k.a. Mister Freeze, was about to weather a tropical hurricane of mind numbing, spine tingling fury of Italian-Hungarian origin and _he didn't even see it coming._ THE FUCKIN' shit had _my gun_ in his lap. **_MY precious Browning_** pointed at two _formerly_ important men in my life. Now they were just cannon fodder to my quiet rage. The man in front of me would soon be classified in that same category, if I had anything to say about it. OH WAIT, I did.

When I reached him, I decided to go repo man on his dumb ass. I did the only thing I could think of to set him off guard. I slapped Tank. So fucking hard I think his ancestors were still spinning in their graves. While he stared dumbfounded at me, I snatched my gun in an elegant, sweeping slight of hand. He never even blinked. I suppose, on some level, he should have expected it. Hell, maybe he would have from anyone else but me. OH NO, Not from me! No, Stephanie would _never _**DARE** to do such a thing! Not sweet little Stephanie Plum! **_GRRRRR_**. Did they all think so little of me! Did they all fucking think I was just some fucking skirt? A form of amusement! The Burg's version of Barbie! Is that why they trained me and kept me around! OOOooooOOOoooo! NO MORE. **_NO FUCKIN' MORE!_** Today a new day would dawn, as god as my fuckin' witness!

I raised the gun one handed and pointed it at Tank, motioning him to stand near Dumb and Dumber still locked together like Siamese twins. _Jesus!_ I cocked the hammer to add an exclamation mark to the statement of my actions. It was the _only_ form of punctuation these lunk heads would understand. They're pretty dense, ya know. I gathered my thoughts and just took in the scene in front of me. I clinically examined my options. One: I can shoot only _one _of the men. Has merits but is not fulfilling. Two: I can shoot Bobby and Ranger. Again pleasurable, but doesn't quench my thirst for blood. Three: I can shoot _all three_ stooges. A VERY fulfilling option. The beer chaser to my shot glass of feigned apathy. I let those ideas marinate in my brain. Hmmm…I think I like the last option the best. It would solve a lot of my problems. Yes, indeed-y. A lot of my problems would be solved then. No more Ranger fucking with my heart. No more Bobby fucking around with my head. No more Tank… well, I'm not sure what Tank did, besides piss me off. Hell, I'd find a reason later. I tapped my empty left hand against my thigh, beating out a tempo to a song only I could hear. Hmmm, looks like my insane place pipes Metallica in on the speakers. They must, because 'Enter Sandman' was repeating endlessly on a loop in my head; How apropos. I grinned maniacally and bobbed my head slightly, in time with the beat.

At that point the tunnel vision I was experiencing was starting to expand a bit. Stone had his gun out but seemed to drawing down on the slap-happy sisters while keeping an amused eye on me. Glad to know I was entertaining someone right now. I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes, but I did feel my mouth twitch at Stone's glance. I noticed that Lester had joined our little menagerie and was standing by Stone near the doorway, empty handed, dazed and confused. I think originally he might have been intending to break up the ongoing brawl; now he was just performing his rendition of Tom Cruise to my Rain man. Lester, Tank, and Stone all stood stock-still, watching me like I was the fox in the hen house. Hmmm, maybe I was. It was about time these c… err… _roosters_ learned who was boss! I sighted down on the two, feathered fowl still fighting. Hmmm…That's kinda catchy. I'm a poet and didn't know it. I felt a giggle gurgle deep in my throat. I suppressed it with effort. I pulled my trigger. After the shot echoed through the room, I think it was safe to say I had their _all_ their undivided attention.

Hewey and Dewey had finally stopped rolling. I guess a bullet ricocheting into the floor a mere foot from your head will do that. I smirked a little at that thought. Stone broke the silence first.

"Jersey, as much as I'd like to see these three horse whipped right 'bout now, I don't think playin' 'shoot the donkey in the ass' is gonna help matters much, darlin'.

"Oh it will help matters… It will make ME feel better. Now all I have to do, Stoney-baby, is decide which one gets it in the ass first. Decisions, decisions…" I thoughtfully sighted down on each of the three men as I mentally weighed their qualifications. Yet again I was rudely interrupted.

"**_JESUS Fucking CHRIST, STEPHANIE!_******What the HELL are you DOING! You could _kill _someone doing that! Are you fucking STUPID?"

Oh NO! He didn't. He really didn't. 'Cause if Ranger really did just say that… I think now I understand the mind of the serial killer, or at least the motivation behind it. Well look-y here, I guess I didn't have to decide who went first after all. The corners of my mouth started to twitch.

"Why Ranger, you sweet fucking talker, you! I can barely contain myself! Is this where I rip off all my clothes and beg you to fuck me blind? If so, please excuse me, I think I missed my cue. Really, I'm just curious…Is that REALLY what you thought would happen when you came back to Trenton? That you would lay down some of that patented batman mystique, a few come hither glances, and a snappy 'YO.' and my panties would spontaneously combust? That I would swoon at you feet, screaming AND PANTING!" I had started with my voice relatively calm and even, but by the end of my dissertation, it was shaking in pure rage.

The asshole stood there with a spasm over his left eye thumping and jaw locked. Huh. Guess, Mister Communicative doesn't have anything to add. What a change! I rolled my eyes at the thought. Most men would have let rip on me immediately, but Ranger wasn't most men and THAT was always our problem. I sighed.

"You honestly thought I would just go **fuck** Bobby, huh? You thought that little of me? I should be surprised by your lack of faith in me, but I'm not. Really I think if I could right now, I would be hurt, but I suppose a person had to still CARE to be hurt, _you asshole!_ For your information, I haven't been with ANYONE since…well… ANYONE! Not that it's any of your BUSINESS!" I stalked towards him still keeping a steely eye on him through the sights of my gun. "In fact **_if_** I decided to fuck the entire Ranger's lineup, you wouldn't GET TO SAY ONE FUCKING WORD! You hear me, BATMAN? **_Not one word!_** You gave up that right seven months ago. I don't need you anymore, or hadn't you heard? I don't even think I want to _see_ you anymore. Can't you just disappear like a wisp of smoke or fly off 'in the wind' as you are so fond of doing? Or better yet poof yourself into a bat and fly away! Don't let a little goodbye stand in your way, or anything. OPPS! I guess I forgot who I was talking to," with that squeezed off another round. He barely jumped out of the way in time screaming "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! _SHE'S INSANE_!"

You gotta love his original repertoire. Ricardo Carlos Manoso: the world's greatest orator. I laughed then, and decided to see if he knew the Mexican hat dance. Bang! BANG! I laughed again. For a Latin man he sure isn't very smooth in the rhythm department. This made me laugh even harder. Ranger started screaming: **_"SOMEONE BETTER TAKE THAT GUN FROM HER BEFORE I DO!"_**

"I'd love to see you try, _RICARDO_." Ranger went still at that. He had never asked me to call him by his first name in the two plus years I had known him. I guess I never rated that intimate or special a personal relationship on his list. Hell, all I was a piece of ass. An entertaining one, but a piece of ass none-the-less. Part of me deep, _deep_ inside shattered completely then. I felt nice and cool now. The furnace-like fire from my earlier rage was completely annihilated at the very moment that certain something broke. Interesting. I'd like to test the limitations of this emotional blizzard; No blizzard wasn't the right word. That word implied that I would care enough to create a storm for this man. Nah, I'd say more of a white-out, the aftereffects of blizzard. _THAT_ was me. I felt my smile tighten and my laughter die. I pulled the trigger again this time not aiming to miss, but the bastard Bat moved. He twitched like the flying vermin he was and managed to roll out of the way in time. Fuck. That would have been a nice flesh wound to the thigh too. I sighed. Well, shoot. There goes all my fun.

"Babe, calm down and give me the gun. YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING RIGHT NOW!"

"Oh contraire, Mon frere. I know for the FIRST time since meeting you what I am doing…and whom I'm doing it to. Oh and by the way, don't EVER call me THAT…" I grimaced "…NAME again. Or I might have to get serious about his shooting thing."

I backed up a pace and surveyed my hostages.

"Hmmm. One bullet left in here. Who gets it? Tick tock. Tick tock. Who's the lucky contestant?"

**To be continued in chapter 17…**


	6. CEotCK Chapter 17 thru 20

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

Barnum and Bailey don't have nuthin' on moi. Heh heh.boxing bell dings ROUND ONE: 'Let's get ready to RUMMMMMMBLEEEE!' C.)

**Chapter 17**

_I backed up a pace and surveyed my hostages._

_ "Hmmm. One bullet left in here. Who gets it? Tick tock. Tick tock. Who's the lucky contestant?"_

"Almost outta bullets, huh? That's a real shame, Jersey. Yeah now, a GEN-U-WINE cryin' shame. I was looking forward to seeing you pop one of the egos in here. All that hot air… Stuffy in here, don't ya think so?" Pebbles, over there, was apparently really getting into this whole shoot-'em-up atmosphere. In the past that might have put me off him a bit but now… I just grinned at him.

"Oh yeah, I agree Darth-baby. I totally agree."

I would have said you could cut the tension in the room with a knife but that wouldn't accurate; a chainsaw was more appropriate. Just then, to my surprise, laughter erupted, like renegade gunfire. Huh, guess I wasn't making all the villagers cower in fear after all.

"Oh Gawd! This is priceless! She has your number, Ranger, that she does." More laughter. "I never thought I would see the day a mere woman would be cleaning your clock! You must be eating yourself up at this! The great, _all-fucking-powerful_ Manoso, master of the underworld, made to stand quivering before a female. Oh excuse me, dodging bullets by dancing before a female…" Bobby leaned over for a moment catching his breath and wiped tears from his eyes. "OH, PRICELESS! **_FUCKING PRICELESS!_** I told you didn't I! HUH? Nah! But you didn't want to listen. Oh no, you didn't. And now look, here is the woman in question, defying you at all odds. CLASSIC! Yeah, go run home, Ranger. We don't want or need you here!" He ended with a smile facing Ranger. I guess he was dismissing me, bad move, VERY bad move.

I examined my gun. Then I popped my clip out and grinned as I slid it back home. "Wow, Bobby looks like I was mistaken. Sorry, but I didn't forget the first rule you taught me. AND I quote: 'Never forget to chamber a round in dire circumstances.' Remember this is for your own good." BANG! He hopped around on one foot like a jack in the box.

"ANGEL!" he held his foot howling. "You shot me, you fucking shot me!" With that he fell to the floor. Lester moved and I sighted on him.

"Don't do anything funny, Santos. I'm watching you. I wouldn't want to add your name to their mass grave." Lester visibly swallowed and shuffled to Bobby cautiously.

"How's he doing?" I arched the question at Les with some concern. I mean, I didn't want to maim the guy…_YET._

I could see him debating his options. Les apparently came to the conclusion to make me happy. He had removed Bobby's boot and examined his foot. When he was finished he returned with an answer. He looked pissed off but docile, an interesting combination, not unlike a chained King Kong. "I'm not certain, but he appears to be okay. The bullet just grazed his pinky toe."

"Are you sure he's okay?" All right, now I was feeling a little teeny weenie bit guilty.

"If you're not sure Santos, I can take a look and 'doctor' him can't I, Jersey?"

Lester ignored Stone and turned to face me with hard eyes. "As well as being shot in the foot as a man can be." I returned his look with one of my own. Les better watch himself. I had long ago fallen off the sanity wagon, and I wasn't about to chase it down now to try to hop back on. "Back off, Les. I'm not in the mood."

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say Steph. You've proven how trigger happy you are. You don't owe any explanation _to me_." He stood and stared at me for a moment before speaking again. "Is it all right if I go get the first aid kit, Tex? Or is that a hanging offense?"

"Hardy, fucking har. Shuddup, Santos. Go get the damn thing and not another word." With that, Les just nodded and left the room. All right, one less stooge to worry about. Three more to go…

**_"Jesus Steph! What the hell did I do? Ranger is the one that started…"_**

"Hold it **RIGHT THERE!** Watch what you say Bobby, or it might be your last words. You and I know what happened here, don't we, HMMMmm? I _KNOW_ that Ranger, here didn't develop all this rage on his own, although he is quite perfect in his thick-headed Neanderthal impersonation. Some how I think you may have made this worse? Am I right or am I right?" I paused. "I am going to take that glare for a yes. Cripes, BOBBY! What the in the _hell _were you doing? What if you had gotten killed, huh? What then! Jesus! What the hell is wrong with you? UGHHH!"

Lester made his way back into the room at the tail end of my rant. "I can name what's wrong with him in one word…"

"Lester if you say my name, by all that's holy I'll chase you down and strangle you with these bare hands. _And_ if you run, I will hound you to the ends of the earth, **_AND THEN_** if you escape me by dying prematurely, I will dig a hole, pull you from Satan's clutches and kick your ass all around the 7th circle of hell."

"Watch it man, I think she's serious."

"Who asked you Lord Helmet!" I growled at stone "You're not my father. UGH!"

"Good one." Stone smiled. "But now, Jersey…" Stone clucked his tongue once again at me. What the HELL! Is he a chicken now? Who the hell does he think he is! "You need to focus your rage back on target, leave me out of this." He sobered suddenly, waving his gun hand regally in my direction. "I'm not the 'droid you're looking for.' Remember?" OH lord!

"Spare me, Colonel Sanders, stick to things you know…like chicken beaks and feet, and leave us bipeds to ourselves. Oh and less television time for you young man. Filthy things you are picking up. I mean, PLEASE, _Star Wars! _I thought you above it!" Damn him for making me smile! Didn't he know I was trying to commit multiple homicides here? GEEZ! Talk about a mood killer!

"I could show you filthy…" Stone mumbled but only Lester heard it, and unfortunately he wasn't about to let it go.

"DAMMIT!" Lester shouted and cocked his head at Stone. _"What did you just say?"_

"Pardon Santos?"

"You heard me! What the _hell_ is the matter with you? Are you _trying_ to make things worse by saying something LIKE THAT!"

"I think you just did… make it worse. Only you had heard me, 'Unca Les'."

What the fuck? Huh? "What? Who said what and when?" No one was listening to me though.

"HEY! What the hell did he say, LES!" Okay, maybe Bobby was listening. But honestly I think that was just due to the lead poisoning.

"Who are **_you_** to come in here and fuck around with this team, huh!" Lester snorted and stomped the ground. Look out! Stampede!

'Uh. **Hello!** I said 'what did he say?' Is anyone listening to me?" I waved the gun in the air. "_Uh, mad gun-woman on the loose here!"_ I barely resisted the urge to use my last chambered round to break up this verbal altercation.

"From where I'm standing Santos, y'all are doin' a right fine job of that all by your little lone selves."

"You're a fucking prick, you know that! Jesus. And can the Southern Gentleman crap. No one's buying it!" Lester turned to point the verbal gun at me. "AND YOU! Is this how you show a man you love him, by shooting him! Christ almighty, remind me not to go down that route, okay? If I do, then I'm entitled to being shot!" I winced but felt that earlier cool rage return full throttle.

"**_I fucking asked you a question Lester! WHAT DID STONE SAY ABOUT ANGEL!" _**No one spared Bobby a glance. Too many other loonies in the bin were talking at once.

"Fuck you Lester! Oh, you don't have to wait for that shot! I have a bullet here with your name on it. Here let me show you… it has 'ASSHOLE' engraved on the casing." I sighted down on him.

"You want to know what he said, Bobby? He fucking propositioned STEPH! _Jesus!_ Is everyone and his brother lead by his _fuckin' Johnson_ around here!" Les walked towards Stone and slammed his open palm against the wall. That was all it took for Stone to go on the defensive. He drew down on Lester.

"I told you to back down once before, Santos. I won't say it again!

"I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU STONE! HOW DARE YOU TALK TO HER LIKE THAT! She's like a…"

"YEAH, YEAH. We heard ya before, Brown, sister. Uh-huh. Whatever. You have major issues."

"PRICK! PUT DOWN THE GUN AND SAY THAT!"

"Tempting but no, I'm not as stupid as you look."

Bobby lunged at Stone and they grappled for the gun grunting. Lester groaned saying: "Not again…" and added his contribution in resolving the conflict by slowly and methodically banging the back of his head against the cinder block wall. Tank just helped in the only way he knew how besides violence.

"EVERYONE SHUT UP!" Uh-oh looks like Tank roused form his stupor. Fat chance he was gaining control. I just ignored him. "GAWD DAMMIT SHUT UP YOU… YOU…Bunch of FUCKING…" Looks like Tank is running low on nouns. Remind me to buy him a thesaurus for Christmas, or would that be Kwanza? I'll have to ask him after I shot him.

"IS THIS AN EXAMPLE OF HOW MUCH BETTER YOU ARE AT TAKING CARE OF THINGS HERE, **_CHUCKIE?_** _JESUS!_ I SHOULD HAVE JUST BURNED DOWN THE BUISNESS BEFORE TURNING IT OVER TO YOU, OR BETTER YET, IF I HAD REALLY WANTED TO FUBAR IT I COULD HAVE LEFT IT IN VINNIE'S HANDS."

"YOU SONOVA… I SHOULD KILL YOU FOR THAT!"

"You keep promising, CHUCKIE but no one sees any…"

And with that Tank and Ranger were now locked together like squid, which made four-tentacled beasties were now rolling on the floor cursing. Leaving one blubbering self-mutilating blowfish and me, the guppy, watching. The Discovery Channel would have a field day with this bunch. A glimmer caught the corner of my eye as I rolled my gaze heaven-ward. I strode over to the chair where Tank had been perched when this whole Greek tragedy, (or would that be divine comedy?) had begun. I picked up the item and weighed my choices. I dismissed all the logical ones right off the bat. That just left…

The twang of knife hitting the wall wasn't what brought the room to a standstill. It was the soprano shriek of the man above it. Everyone turned to look at Lester still shrieking and clutching his family jewels. "Omigawd, omigawd, omigawd, omigawd, omigawd, omigawd, omigawd…" You get the drift. I don't think Les was on this plane of existence anymore.

A communal groan lifted from the men like a vapor. They all instinctively grabbed themselves, I guess in sympathy. Stone was the first to comment.

"Jersey, remind me never to round third base with you unless you wave me home…" He grimaced and stood. When he had collected himself he walked over to me. "If you have finished demonstrating what you have to 'say' to us…" He said by pointing out where Lester stood, still pinned to the wall in terror and trauma, with the knife hilt still quivering in the drywall just an inch or two south of his treasure chest. "…I think it would be in all our best interests if I search you for weapons now. I, for one, would like to leave this room with all appendages intact."

"Hey, I am the one with the gun here! Shouldn't what I have to say count for anything?"

"It would if you still had bullets in that gun." He said before pulling me into his grasp. He was thorough in his full body search.

"Watch it, Pervy! Hands north of the Equator, remember your manners!"

"You wish Jersey, you wish…"

That was the moment we were joined in the land of the coherent.

**"YOU!"** Looks like someone decided to unlock out of stunned bunny mode. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE?" Ranger growled pointing to Stone. WHAT! Was he so engrossed in himself during that whole brawl that he didn't see Stone until now! JUDAS PRIEST! And people said **_I_** was oblivious!

"Nice to see you too, Manoso. Or is it _batman_? I can never keep it straight now-a-days…" Stone riffed. "You really should think about investing in those disposable name tags… You know the ones: 'Hello my name is…fill in today's name here'."

"I _told_ you, I would kill you if you ever came for me." Ranger said while creeping menacingly towards Stone. "And I always keep my promises."

Stone just chuckled. Can you believe it? _He chuckled at Ranger!_ And I thought I had gone off my rocker! "You have a mighty high opinion of yourself, Little Ricky. If I was gunning for you, you wouldn't know it. You'd already be cold and in the ground." He stated with precision. "You of all people should know that I don't have the detrimental _flaw _of insisting on terminating face to face."

"I know what a cold hearted bastard you are, S.T., You don't have to remind _me." _Ranger snarled. Cripes! This day was the best and only day I had seen Ranger at his emotive best. And here I thought he was a chia pet.

"It's just 'Stone' here, Manoso. I don't hide those parts of what I am from the _people_ **I **_work_" he shot a glace at me, …and _play _with."

Ranger whipped around to glare at Tank. "YOU hired this killing freak," he pointed indicating Stone, "to work for _MY_ company! Jesus, what the _hell _were you thinking? DO YOU KNOW WHAT HE IS! **_DO YOU!"_**

Tank just glared right back. "Of course I fucking know what he is! Do you think I would just hire any ol' body! JESUS RIC! I know how to do my job and run MY company! Remember that! YOU left it to me! Besides he checked out clean enough. He was Okayed by the Colonel…"

"Oh for GAWD's SAKE, TANK! The old man says he's clean and you just let him waltz around the complex! For how long!"

"For three months now, not that it matters. He's not the one. It's too obvious, man, besides the Colonel's word has always been good enough before. What makes him so special?" Tank spouted while indicating Stone. I just watched entranced, aware that I had lost control over these men somewhere in the last several minutes.

"**HE** is a spook. **HE** is what I was trying to leave behind! **HE** is the _ANTI-CHRIST!_ **HE** is something so foul that even the Colonel cut him loose!" Ranger ground out and Tank blanched as white as a dark man could. "I see you are slowly comprehending here, my friend. You have hired what even the Colonel wouldn't touch with a ten-foot-FUCKIN'-pole!"

During this time Lester and I had been doing our imitations of bobble-head dolls watching the action. I don't know about Les but I was having a hard time following this conversation. I mean spooks? I don't think they are talking about Casper the friendly ghost here. Bobby was just smirking, leaning back on heels with arms crossed over his chest. Apparently he was enjoying all this way too much. I am starting to really believe he **_is_** a masochist. Tank looked at Stone and recovered the gift of speech.

"Is this true?"

"Well, I've been called a lot of things in my time, but anti-christ is not entirely accurate. Lower level demon: maybe. Right hand of Satan: okay, got me there. BUT anti-christ? Nah, too overly dramatic." He smirked, "Besides my friends just call be Bubba."

I had to ask: "Short for Beelzebub, right?"

Stone turned to look at me like a proud papa bear. "Aw, Jersey, C'mere. You deserve at least a hug for getting that one."

I guess there are some things even a gun, knife, or physical threat of death can't chase away. And apparently Stone's humor wasn't the only one of those things. Looks like the man himself was just as lethal as his burns. I shivered. The comment that Lester made outside the room came back to me in a flash. _"DARK ASSASSIN…"_

"Yeah, Jersey. Just one name of many. But YOU should call me Stone or 'The Best Lover I've Ever Had' will suffice."

Didn't he ever stop? And why didn't the fact that that he was just revealed as former back-ops, current hitman cool my libido concerning all matters 'STONE'? Ugh. Mental head slap! I still found him cute, in a lethal rent-a-thug kinda way. **_WHY ME!_**

**To be continued in chapter 18…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON-PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

To the addicts, you know who you are. Sorry for the brief interlude. Keep your eyes peeled for more soon. HEH HEH. laughing maniacally did you really think Stone would just let me post this lonely chapter? C.)

**Chapter 18**

_"DARK ASSASSIN…"_

_ "Yeah, Jersey. Just one name of many. But YOU should call me Stone or 'The Best Lover I've Ever Had' will suffice."_

_Didn't he ever stop? And why didn't the fact that that he was just revealed as former back-ops, current hitman cool my libido concerning all matters 'STONE'? Ugh. Mental head slap! I still found him cute, in a lethal rent-a-thug kinda way. **WHY ME!**_

'S.T.', 'Dark Assassin', spook, heck 'Bubba'! The names ran around like mice in my head, slowly nibbling away at what few coherent brain cells I had left. I mean, a girl can only function so well after a rage-induced haze. I think I was doing pretty well given the fact that in the span of the last 15 minutes I had broken up three fist fights, fired off a round of ammo at moving targets like Dirty Harrietta and performed my the femme Nikita knife throwing act. Who could blame me for wondering who the huge mammoth of a man sitting across from me was? I mean who he _truly_ was. I had no idea. If the last few minutes had taught me anything, it was that. I watched Stone intently. Studying him like a lab rat, if by staring at him I could somehow peel away the façade of the cool 'Stone' exterior and find the man underneath. And did I want to? Find the man… I mean, evidently this man was as comfortable on the dark side of life as the rest of the guys. Heck even more so. And he seemed to have a history with Ranger. A bad one at that from the way they spoke to each other. I mean, _hello!_ What did Ranger mean by 'the next time you come for me'? I shook my head. These two evidently have spilt blood, possibly even each other's. Was Stone somehow connected to the mysterious trips that Ranger was always taking? Were they, I am assuming, black ops agents? The only thing I knew about black ops could be summed up in a paragraph. Hell, If it wasn't for Ethan Hunt and James Bond I probably wouldn't even know that much. I stole a look at Ranger sitting at the head of the new conference table. Okay it was a folding card table, but after how the first table was destroyed I think Tank was wise in requesting a cheap folding table. He was probably worried about how long a life span any piece of furniture would have in this room with this group.

I shrugged and focused on Ranger. He and I were attracted to each other, and look how THAT ended! Mental head slap. We had practically burned down my apartment building the night we finally got together and look at us now. Seething hell hounds were nicer to each other! I miss what we had, as twisted as that sounded. I missed the man that I thought would always be supporting my crazy schemes and be there for me no matter what. The man who uncuffed me form that shower rod when I was naked as the day I came into the world, and never tried to make one move. But that man was an illusion, he had to be! Ranger up and left me all those months ago. What's to say that he wouldn't do it again? No, maybe I didn't miss him as much as I thought. Maybe I just missed the idea of Ranger. I visually compared the two men, volleying between Stone and Ranger's faces. It was like comparing the moon and the sun. One man was all mystery, best shown in the dark of night, with his mocha skin glowing, drawing you in to its orbit. Who hasn't wanted to go to the moon? The other man was just as mysterious. A hot body burning up the very air one breathes, pulling me into its atmosphere. But as much as you want the warmth of the sun, you don't try to go there! You'd get third degree burns before getting too close, and probably die happy doing it. UGH. I better focus on improving myself before I invest myself emotionally in a man again. I shook my head once more, hoping I would shake something free and be able to figure out what the hell to do with my life. I sniffed. Like that was probable, talk about impossible tasks! Thinking that made me think about all the insane things I have done in the past, yeah, some in the very recent past. I smothered a groan as I thought about the morning's events. All these men were insane. Okay, maybe you could even add my name to that list, but I was provoked! I folded my arms and shot dirty looks around the room, not sparing any of these stooges. Tank was sitting at the foot of the table, or the head depending if Ranger and he wanted to battle it out. How symbolic. Lester had been sitting in a chair in the far corner of the room. Tank had tried to get him to join us at the table, but Les wouldn't budge until he was threatened with the prospect of setting me loose again. Now he sat at the far corner of the table, and his attitude apparently has not improved. Hmm. When I met his eyes, he glared at me. I would bet that he was still cupping himself protectively underneath the table. Hell, it was a safe bet. He hadn't _stopped_ doing it since he was lured away from the wall. Not even when Bobby had pulled the knife from the wall and tucked it away somewhere on his person. Les was going for the world record for longest death stare in the western hemisphere. I rolled my eyes and dismissed him. Sheesh! MEN! You'd think I threatened his children the way he was acting. It's not like I had actually cut him or something. That was one thing I was pretty adept at, according to Hector. Knife throwing, not the eye rolling, although that is something else I can do quite well.

Bobby sat in the chair on my left side and stoked my back with the thumb of his right hand. Several minutes ago he had slung his arm across the back of my chair and proceeded to give my shoulder a squeeze from time to time. From the looks he received, I think I was the only one present that didn't object. Well, strangely enough, except Stone. That fool just tipped the corners of his mouth up, like he was laughing internally at something. Smug weasel. Ugh.

I crossed my arms and scrunched my eyebrows up in disgust. I wonder if this wrestle mania at the aquarium event would continue even after this little confab briefing on the recent case. Typical. I snorted and rolled my eyes.

"Are we bothering you, Steph?"

"Huh?" Shit, looks like I zoned out again. So sue me, I had a lot on my mind. I looked up at Tank.

"Well, unless your snort was one of approval of the handling of our current situation, I somehow don't get the feeling you having been listening to me one little bit." With that Tank uncrossed his arms and leaned forward menacingly in my direction. You'd think he would realize after today's events that you shouldn't try to intimidate me, it was futile. How can you intimidate a permanent rubber room resident?

"_I was listening!_" When in backed into a corner, go on the offensive and attack. It works for snakes. Lester voiced his opinion eloquently by loudly snorting. I shot him a death ray before swinging back to look at Tank's face for a reaction.

Tank frowned and grunted. "Yeah, I'm sure you were. So tell me, what do you think of what we have come up with so far?"

SHIT!

"Uh, well, I think that it's the best we can do under the circumstances." There, that was an innocuous enough comment, right? I snuck a look at Tank. Double shit. Okay, how about… "Besides you know better than I do, when it comes to this stuff Tank." Heh heh. Stroke the male ego, works every time.

Tank just stood there, glaring, with an eyebrow raised. A short chortle came from Bobby besides me. I whipped around and gave him the look. "Shuddup." I elbowed him in the side.

Bobby grabbed me and pulled me sideways into his lap carefully avoiding his foot. "You better watch out, Annie Oakley. I still owe you for that crippling shot." He swatted my thigh playfully. I snorted.

"Oh, yeah RIGHT! Like you actually need a pinkie toe to walk or something! It's just ornamental, like tinsel on a Christmas tree. Pretty, but unnecessary. Be a man! Suck it up, wuss." With that I pushed out of his lap forcefully and launched myself towards my chair. He caught me before I could get very far. "Watch it, Angel. I meant it. I still owe you and you'll never see it coming."

I shivered and retorted: "Yeah, whatever you say Bobby. Like you would really hurt me or something, you love me, remember?"

He whispered in my ear and held fast to my arm. "To quote Tina Turner, Angel: what's love got to do with it?"

You would think something that corny wouldn't inspire fear, but it did. I think, I just swallowed my tongue mentally. I watched him warily as I slid back into my chair.

"If you two have quite finished," Tank paused to bang his fist on the folding table, which shook like Jell-O. "We can get serious, IF EVERYONE IS PAYING ATTENTION."

Okay, somebody is a teeny bit mad, looks like. Geez, miss one conversation and…okay more than one…well…maybe about 90 percent of business conversations I tune out on. Is it MY fault that Tank can't keep my attention for more than five minutes at a time? NO. I think not. He should take some lessons from Billy Graham on dramatic speaking, maybe then he wouldn't… UH-oh.

"…at that point we can move in and isolate the signal. The hard part will be thinning down the necessary staff to run Rangeman for the next few weeks and making sure we neutralize the threat of loosing more information. We need to cut this S.O.B. off before he screws us worse than he already has. Otherwise the Colonel and his staff will move in and take over, AND NO ONE WANTS THAT." Tank slammed his fist again. The table did its job and folded. We all collectively stared at the new pile of rubble. This time Stone apparently couldn't contain himself.

"Good thing we didn't move this meeting into that fancy dinin' room, huh. You might want to seriously consider adding comprehensive coverage to your home insurance policy, unless there is a crazed muscle man clause or something. Then you are pretty much totally pooch-scr…"

"Stop right THERE! Dammit! I have one comedian in this bunch I don't need two. Leave it be Stone, if you know what's good for you."

"Believe me I know what's good for me." He turned his attention from Tank and on to me in a predatory manner. "I think I can judge when I should leave it be or not." He winked at me and returned his attention to Tank. "For now I'll agree and back off…" He grinned and added as an afterthought. "…Boss." And he chuckled. This man must have balls of steel. Tank just did hid impression of boulder in response. The he suddenly turned his attention to the other side of the room.

"Lester, go find someone to clean up this mess. And make sure they don't come in until we signal by opening the door. I don't want anyone else added to our list to check out." With that he sighed and rubbed his head like it was a magic eight ball or something. Shake it and it has all the answers. Ugh. Lester got up, went around the chairs counterclockwise so he wouldn't have to pass by me. I rolled my eyes and decided to focus on something else. Uh, like what _were_ we supposed to have been discussing anyway?

I must have had an enquiring look on my face because Bobby leaned in and said: "We are narrowing down duties in relationship to this case to be operated only by the inner circle: You, me, Tank, Lester, Stone," dark glare, "and Ranger," even darker glare. "Until we can clear the rest of the staff, no one else is to know what investigation is underway. This is strictly on a need to know basis."

Huh. I suppose I need to know. Big sigh. Might as well admit it. I leaned in to whisper in Bobby's ear as he grinned knowingly. "And what are we investigating?"

He turned his face so his lips brushed a few centimeters from my earlobe and whispered back, barely containing his mirth. "_I knew it._ You weren't listening to anyone at all, were you?" I felt his chest shake against by shoulder. "Angel you have to learn to multi-task. Daydream _and _listen in on important case briefing. Just be glad Tank hasn't figured out to what extent you haven't been paying attention."

"Was that a threat, _Bob_?"

He snarled. "I warned you about that BOB business. That's two. If you say it again I won't be held responsible for my future actions."

"Yeah, Yeah, whatever, Brown." I snorted. "Like you could take me out if I didn't want you to."

"You are getting entirely too cocky. But before I detail just how I would take you down a peg or two, I think we should find out exactly how much information you picked up during this meeting. I know you are just trying to distract me."

Rats! "Well, it was worth a try."

"Spill. How much did you actually hear?"

"Uh, does the last sentence Tank said count?"

Bobby groaned, slouched back in his chair and looked around the room. I followed his gaze. Tank and Ranger seemed to be deep in conversation; heads huddled together on the other side of the conference room. Looks like they haven't noticed how much Bobby and I have been gossiping and sniping yet. Probably a good thing, it might increase the odds in favor of prolonging my life expectancy. I somehow got the feeling I was persona non grata right about now. Wonder why? Stone was the only other one left and he stood leaning against the wall opposite Bobby and I. He was rubbing something with his hands. Yuck. Don't want to know. I shrugged and looked at Bobby, shaking his shoulder to regain his attention.

"Bobby." I hissed as softly s I could. When he finally opened his eyes and looked at me I continued. "So…"

He leaned his head towards mine again so I could feel his breath against my cheek. "You didn't hear anything more than that?"

"Uh, I also heard what Tank said at the beginning; something about information being leaked."

"Good, at least I don't have to start from scratch. Here's the short version, since you checked out on the detailed one. Someone inside Rangeman is sending data covertly from the office to an outside source over a period of time during the last two months. This person has used high level clearances which originate from inside the Rangeman organization to access information on past covert missions performed at the request of our government contacts. Therefore we are assuming this is an inside job. Someone here has turned and sold us out. We have yet to isolate the person or persons responsible, or narrow down the location where the data was sent. It was traced to an inbox for an internet provider that anyone or his brother could apply for. So we don't know who is on the receiving end or what their intent is with smuggling out this data. In order to prevent this situation from escalating we are setting up a sting. We are going to plant falsified information and see is the leak takes the bait. We track him with the set wire taps and computer monitoring devices. Then we have him. Simple."

Alright. It did sound simple. But then why…

"Uh, Bobby if it's so simple why if Tank so antsy about this? _What _information about _what_ missions? Is this about that Colonel guy?" When Bobby winced and nodded I lurched forward. "Who is he? Why would he take over Rangeman? Ranger would never allow anyone besides Tank to take over his company! Is he the government contact that you were talking about?" I gasped. "_Is he actually in charge of Rangeman_! _Is this Colonel guy like 'M' from James Bond?_ Does he…" Bobby cut me off by slapping a hand over my mouth. I furrowed my brow at him to show my displeasure. He better let go soon or I was gonna bite him.

"I don't _know_ the guy, I just know **_of_** him. And what I know ain't pleasant, Angel-Girl. He's not one you want to be associating with, so pray we are able to contain this before he swoops in and takes over shop. And before you ask, even I don't know exactly what data was taken. I just know what I've been told; that the data is related to covert missions that Ranger has been sent on over the last year or so. And NO, I don't know where he went or what Ranger did on those missions. I'm not sure that Tank even knows that! We were never meant to even know that he was _still_ taking contracts for the Colonel anymore. That much Ranger has made clear, the bastard." Oh-KAAAY. Looks like someone has some suppressed anger to deal with. I tried to change the subject. As much as I would love to know more about double-O Bat, I knew Bobby's control had it's limitations for some reason when it came to all things Ranger.

"Uh, Okay. So when is this thing going down? Do I have to be aware of doing special for this sting?" I looked up into Bobby's face and prayed he would calm down before things got ugly again. He mumbled something about the fact that I would just have to continue on as normal and some other garbage. I wasn't really concentrating. All I could think about was the fact that I don't have any weapons left. I patted down Bobby in the guise of trying to comfort him, looking for the knife. **Shit!** _Where is it!_ I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye. Stone. I moved only my eyes to look at Stone over Bobby's shoulder while the rest of me continued embracing Bobby.

FUCK.

Stone was whistling now, the theme from 'The Andy Griffith Show' as a matter of fact, and polishing a blade. THE BLADE I had just used to coach Lester with his singing abilities. _HOW DID HE POCKET IT FROM BOBBY! HE WAS ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM, FOR GAWD'S SAKE!_ I narrowed my eyes at Stone. All he did was reach up and tip his imaginary hat. All the while never ceasing the infernal whistling and he winked at me! HE FREAKIN" WINKED AT ME! **_ARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!_**

****

**To be continued in chapter 19…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

Told ya it would be soon ladies. ENJOY! Lots of strife for all. C.)

**Chapter 19**

"So if that's okay with you, Angel, I'll bring my stuff over tonight after we finish up here."

Huh? I released my grip on Bobby's shoulders and pried my gaze from Stone's, forgetting all thoughts of knives. Stunned I pulled back from the man I had my hands wrapped around to sit in my seat and looked up into Bobby's face. He looked like he was waiting for a reply. SHIT. SHIT. SHIT. What did he say? Okay, fifty-fifty chance here. Just go for it.

"Uh, sure it's okay." I waited. Bobby beamed, scooped me up and swung me around in his grasp like a windmill, drawing the attention of the rest of the room again.

"You won't regret this, Angel." With that he plopped me down on the ground on unsteady feet, and before I could recover he grabbed me, pulled me close and dropped a big kiss on my lips. Shit. What the hell did I just agree to? Why didn't I just admit that I wasn't listening again? Shit. I wobbled a smile and shrugged.

"I am sure I won't." Yeah, right. I'm so full of it. I struggled to keep a blank face.

"Well, isn't that just a cozy situation. Not anything going on, huh, Brown! You are a fuckin' liar now and always. I knew I shouldn't trust you!" Ranger stalked towards Bobby. Shit! _Not again._ Was that a boxing bell I just heard? Tank grabbed Ranger and I put my hand on Bobby's forearms and leaned back, holding fast. I put all my body weight into it, so the sheer weight of my hiney alone should keep him grounded. The guys had yet to show me an exercise that was of 'Buns of Steel's caliber.

"Fuck you, Ranger! If she wants _me_ to move in, I can. Live with it!" Bobby shouted.

**_Holy Hell!_** _I agreed to Bobby moving in with me!_ I slapped my forehead and Bobby used that moment to break free of me. I fell on my butt, how appropriate, while Bobby proceeded to pummel Ranger with his fists. Tank was so shocked, I was guessing that from the look on his face, that he had yet to let go of Ranger. Hell, he was shocked! _I was shocked!_ Dammit! Could I make things any worse! Ugh. Memo to self: pay more attention in general to conversations involving you. I just sat there wondering where exactly I had lost control of my life.

Tank eventually recovered enough to pry himself between the two men and push them apart. "Need a hand here, Stone!" he bellowed.

"You look like you're managing okay there, Boss-man." Stone grinned.

"**NOW!**" Tank growled.

"All right, All right. Keep your pants on, I'm comin'." Stone sprung off the wall and grabbed Bobby while Tank hauled Ranger to the opposite corner. "C'mon Brown. Settle down big guy. As fun as it is to watch you beat the crap out of the capped crusader here, you really should back off if you wanna keep your job, bud."

"Oh, it's too late for that! _He's fired!_ Get your stuff and get out Brown!" Ranger seethed. "Turn your passkey and code card in at the gate when you go."

"**_NO._** _You fucking won't Bobby!"_ Tank shook Ranger. "Fucking think man! What the hell's the matter with you! You haven't acted this stupid since Junie. Pull you head out of your ass! Between the two of you I…Oppphhfftt!" Stone pulled Ranger off Tank and body checked him with a low blow to the solar plexus. Once Ranger was a disabled blip on the radar, Stone then offered Tank a hand up. "Better watch it, these two are nuts…Boss." That time Stone couldn't withhold his chuckle.

"Yeah. THIS is the reason I am putting Brown in the office on Comm duty. You and Stephanie should be separated for a while. I think it's for the best."

"No, you just want to appease Ranger. Fuck HIM!" With that Bobby tried to lunge at the crumpled form that was Ranger.

"STOP! You should know you may not be fired yet but you are coming close if you continue in this manner during business hours! Don't fuck up. You are already on probation, Brown." Tank ground out while he diverted Bobby from his Task a firm tug on his collar.

"Don't worry Tank. I know who runs the show around here." He looked pointedly at Ranger lying on the floor. "I haven't forgotten."

Before Tank could answer, Ranger retorted: "You better fucking believe I still run the show, Brown. You better remember that!"

"Now, you are mistaken, Ric. You left the company to me. You can't come back here and take over like you never fucking left!" Tank bellowed at Ranger an inch from his face.

"Nothing is concrete. My lawyer has yet to finalize the paper work, Tank." Ranger crossed his arms and spat back.

"Is that a threat, man?" Tank ground out between clenched teeth.

This time Ranger stepped up and pushed on Tank's chest. "No, pal, it's a promise."

Stone brandished his knife. "All right, Gents. Let's all simmer down now. Wouldn't want us to have to discuss this with my sharp little ol' referee here."

Bobby grunted and clenched his fists at his side. I managed to finally recover enough to stand up, approach the animals safely and swing an arm around Bobby's waist.

"Uh Bobby, don't do anything you'll regret. He's not worth quitting a job you love." Ranger glared at me with that comment but I could care less at this point.

"Don't worry, Angel. I'm not quitting. I won't give either of them that satisfaction, but I am moving out. I have no desire to live on this compound any longer. I'll be at work on Monday don't worry, BOSS." Bobby directed the last to Tank. Bobby lived here full time! What the hell!

Bobby turned and left the room, slamming the door as he exited. The sound echoed in the room with finality along with the sound of silence…

"FUCK!"

Okay, maybe along with that too.

"Uh, Tank?" I turned to awkwardly address Tank but he had dismissed me.

"GAWD DAMMIT, RIC! See what you've caused! GET OUT!"

Oh shit.

"Excuse me, Tank. Did I hear you correctly." Ranger said with a deadly calm. This would not end well, I sighed mentally. This was beginning to be par for the course.

"You heard me. Bobby is like your freakin' blood man. And how do you treat him? You cut him down with every chance you get! Hell, you both do it! What the hell are you ultimately doing here? Sabotaging your life, that's what. I didn't say a word when you said you'd sign the company over to me. I didn't say anything when you left the best woman you'd found in a long time behind without an explanation or backward glance." _What the… huh?_ "When you left this compound, YOUR VERY HOUSE to me to take care of I didn't say one word, and look where all this silence has gotten not just _you _but _US!_ Everyone that fucking cares about you man!" _Holy hell!_ This was Ranger's HOUSE? WAS THIS THE BATCAVE? **_I had been in the BATCAVE and no one had fuckin' told me! _**"I told you the last time you called you should come back, and did you? NO. FUCK THIS!" He stomped away from Ranger and punched the wall. Red letter day, Tank punching the wall and loosing his cool. Is it an epidemic? Is it in the air like legionaries' disease or is it like oxygen that's pumped in at casinos? Air borne Rage! Shit, the airlines would freak out! "I'm done holding your hand and trying to be your friend, man! You need a fuckin' keeper and I don't want the job! I think it might be best if you just leave and don't look back."

"Fine, Tank. You've made your case. Consider us only business associates from this moment on. I'm leaving. I plan to leave the Rangeman Trenton office as soon as this leak business has been wrapped up to my satisfaction. Then I plan never to come back. There is nothing left for me here now." With those grim words Ranger strode towards the door. A part of me wanted to call him back and dispute what he had said, but I just couldn't. It was all true. He had burnt all his bridges whether he realized who was actually responsible or not. He just knew that they were indeed destroyed. My heart ached for Tank. It ached for Bobby. Heck, it even ached for Lester to a certain degree. Les worshipped Ranger even though he hadn't known Ranger as long as the rest of the guys. I could only hope that one day they could all forgive each other.

"I'll be in my bedroom if anyone needs me."

Lester opened the door right before Ranger made the last comment, froze and he winced visibly. "What's wrong Santos?" Lester's mouth opened and closed several times and nothing came out. After a full minute of lack of speech and Lester sweating profusely, Ranger growled and turned to face Tank. "What the hell? Why is Santos acting like a deaf mime, Tank?"

Tank cleared his throat. "Your _former_ room is occupied, Ranger. I can arrange for another room to be opened up and prepared for you. It will take just a few…"

"Who has my room, Tank?"

"…mere minutes. Lester, go tell Cal to open up the west wing and…" Tank rambling? SHIT. I was dumb struck along with Lester. We should form a club. How does the Gaping Guppies sound?

Ranger slammed his fist against the door with a thundering crack. Another one bites the dust. "FUCKING WHO HAS MY ROOM, TANK!"

"Stone." Tank deadpanned.

Ranger stalked towards Stone with his eyes glowing like the fires of hell. If the fires of hell were chocolate brown in color, of course, and resided in the finest Latino body I had ever seen.

"YOU have MY ROOM." Ranger growled. "**_YOU!_** HAVE! **_MY ROOM_**!" He pushed Stone in the chest and Stone just laughed him off. Man, he was ice cold. Did nothing ruffle his composure?

"It's not the only thing I'm moving in on of yours, Ricky." Stone smirked.

Ranger shot me a disgusted look while I just blushed red. DAMN HIM! I didn't know if I was more embarrassed, mortified or insanely angry. Hmm, let me think. ANGRY! I started to open my mouth to cut him down to size when it happened. It hit me. THE COMMENT! SHIT. Stone had Ranger's bedroom. I had jumped on Stone's bed. SHIT, Ranger's BED! Oh. MY. GAWD. My hand crept down to the seat of my pants. Nope, still dry. Praise the Lord for small miracles. I had been asked out in the very room that Ranger had slept in! _Oh SWEET BIPPY! Both men had slept in that bed! That mattress should be bronzed!_ **_BOTH MEN HAD USED THAT VERY SHOWER I HAD USED! BOTH MEN HAD BEEN NAKED IN THAT ROOM!_** I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I started waving my hands in the air in front of my face, feeling myself grow flush and then pale, over and over again. No one seemed to pay any attention. I vaguely heard Tank and Ranger argue some more after Stone made some comment. Heated words were evidently exchanged. But if anyone had asked me what was said, I couldn't say. I was watching a silent movie, narrated alternatively by my inner voice screaming and hyperventilation. I must have finally made some weird noise, because both Lester and Stone looked at me. The world grew dim at the edges and I could have cared less. Wow, I wonder if I just give in and…

And with that thought I tumbled over backward. I felt myself falling and was totally apathetic. Hmm, all I could think was: 'Gee, I hope I don't wind up on my ass with my shirt hiked up over my head or anything. Talk about embarrassing.' Then suddenly the world completely blacked out.

**To be continued in chapter 20…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

What can I say, I was feelin' Smurfy. shruging gotta love those smurfs! Heck, anyone who can use their name as an adverb, adjective, noun, or verb…

ya gotta respect. ANYWHO…before anyone suggests it, I didn't have a head injury! We will find out about the fainting thing soon…MUUUUhhhhHHHAAAHHHAA! In case you were wonderin', yes indeedy that was the evil laugh. C.)

**Chapter 20**

** Two weeks later…**

The door bell rang and I groaned. Let me die! Maybe then whoever was out there would get the point. I flopped over onto my stomach, burrowed my head under my pillow and prayed whoever it was would just leave already.

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

Okay maybe they aren't going to go peacefully after all. UGH! All those years of wishing people would just knock on my front door and now I just wanted whoever it was to break in already! Much quieter that way. There has to be some way of peacefully getting rid of this nut who insists on pounding on my door at the crack of dawn!

**"GO AWAY!"**

If that didn't discourage them, I don't know what would. The echo of my harpy like shriek was deafening even to me. Damn. I massaged my temple blindly and groaned with resign. I wish I hadn't done that. Now I was completely awake! I growled and threw my covers off me and halfway across the room. I grabbed my alarm clock. 6:59 a.m.

Six Fifty freakin' Nine A.M! There is only one way to deal with this!

I snatched up my scraggily Looney Tune robe and slammed my bedroom door open. I stalked toward the front door snorting fire, which is probably why I missed seeing the duffle bag on the floor. All that sulfur can distract a gal. I swore some creative phrases featuring Bobby's lineage and current health. This living situation has got to end! I scrambled to my feet and punted the duffel, definitely not my smartest idea ever.

"SHIT! That HURTS!"

I hopped around trying to ease the throbbing in my big toe. I love Bobby and all, but living in a one bedroom-one bath apartment with the man is KILLER! Who would have thought that he was a worse slob than even me! I never thought that possible before now. Bobby said he was looking for a new place to move to, but I was beginning to lose hope. My secret belief is that his search was a lot like the quest for the Lost City of Atlantis, legendary and mythic.

While I attempted to straighten my haphazard robe and cinch the belt on my chic Wiley E. Coyote ensemble, I plotted mayhem. I KNOW for fact that anyone I am on personal terms with, heck even those I'm not, would just break in if it was important. Especially after that last angry shriek, so therefore it was someone I didn't know. DAMMIT! It was Saturday! Why can't the Adventers, Witnesses, and vacuum salesmen leave me the hell alone! Didn't they see the mark of the beast on my door? Well too late for warnings, I fumed. I scooped up a necklace off the end table and flung it around my neck.

As I stomped to the door I yelled: **_"I'm not buying; I don't care how cute your uniform is! I'm not donating; I could care less if you had a crack habit! I'm not selling; I'm too tired! AND I'm sure as hell not joining you at your next tambourine banging, snake dancing, fire eating church function!"_**

I started undoing the gazillion locks Bobby had made me install on my front door. I growled as I tried to undo the last deadbolt which was resisting.

**_"No amount of religion is gonna save this sinner! Now back away from that doorbell if you want to keep what the good lord gave ya!"_ **

I held up the end of my necklace, warding off whatever devil was on the other side and flung the door completely open.… I let the rosary slip from my hands. It would do me no good. This particular demon wasn't afraid of it. It figures, considering my luck. I turned back around and held the door open for my visitor.

"Welcome to Dante's Inferno! Come in and have a seat. I know you will feel at home, it **_is_** hell." I grumbled, snatched up a few pairs of men's shoes that were lying in my entryway and threw them against the far wall. I stomped toward the kitchen and my savior: Mr. Coffee, a.k.a. the only man to never disappoint me. As I flung open the cupboards looking for ingredients for my brew, I threw over my shoulder: "Be sure to make yourself at home and leave all your shit laying around! EVERYONE ELSE DOES!" After getting all the parts in the necessary places I pressed start on the machine. It gurgled away happily as I started banging mugs together in the cupboard. Where the hell is it! DAMN IT!

"You really need to try yoga or that pilates stuff. It might help you channel all your rage." A very male voice boomed over my shoulder.

I whirled around while clutching my chest through my robe. When my heart rate lowered from hummingbird to bunny rabbit, I glared up into my morning interloper's face.

"DON'T DO THAT! You nearly gave me a heart attack!" I resumed my frantic search.

"Calm down. Now do you need help finding something or are you always this blissful since you started cohabitating with Brown?"

"Shut up Morelli! If you must know I am trying to find my mug!"

He groaned. "You mean to tell me you still drink out of that...THING?"

"DAMMIT Joseph," I growled, "Just help me find it and nobody gets hurt! Look over there." With that I thrust an arm out and pushed him over to the other side of the refrigerator towards my oven. He just stood there with a goofy grin.

"You want me to look for it over here? In your oven?"

"Can you think of a better place to store the overflow dishes, smartass? No more comments, just look. When we find it, _then_ you can tell me why you interrupted my REM cycle on a Saturday!"

Morelli turned his back to me laughing, bent over and tentatively peeked inside the oven. Damn. He may still be an ass, but boy was it F-I-N-E.

"All right, All right. We'll find THE THING first before discussing business, Cupcake."

Geez, why did I break up with him again? I felt the drool pooling in my mouth.

"Damn, Stephanie! When was the last time you cleaned this thing! And how did it get so dirty! I know Sarah Lee didn't cause this kind of mess."

Okay, now it's all coming back to me.

"As much as I enjoy seeing you with your head in my oven, Morelli, now's not the time or place. Just find it!"

"I never understood why you kept that _thing_ around…" Joe grumbled while he returned to a vertical position.

"I've had it forever! Besides looking at it makes me feel better about myself."

"I'll just bet it does…" Joe walked over to stand beside me and reached over my head to open the cabinet over the refrigerator. He was reaching up just as I was turning around and we collided. He thunked heads and both cursed for different reasons.

"Watch where you're going, Twinkle Toes!" I growled and shoved his shoulder intending to make him back off. It backfired. What I didn't take into account was where our feet were positioned and how small my kitchenette was. We fell on the floor in a tangle of limbs, me on top. The wind was knocked outta me and I couldn't properly curse him right away. Joe must have taken that silence as an invitation.

"Cupcake, it you wanted to feel me up, all you had to do was ask. We're still friends… GOOD FRIENDS." He pulled me closer to him and tilted his head towards mine.

"Oh for GAWDS SAKE, MORELLI! Does everything make you horny! I thought you would have changed since Terri." I slapped him across the face and sprung to my feet, but not before Joe managed to cop a cheap thrill. Scum.

I resumed my search and snarled. "You better behave yourself or I'll sic Vito on you. I may not have his number but I'm sure Connie does!"

Joe grinned as he stood and dusted off his trademark jeans. "I guess some things DO change." He shook his head mournfully . "Stephanie Plum turning down a quickie."

"That just may be your problem, JOE. It's not _supposed _to be quick. Some men actually involve more than one body part. It is kosher you know." I snorted.

Joe leaned forward and breathed on the back of my neck: "Cupcake, our problems were never in the bedroom."

I swallowed awkwardly. No. No, they weren't. Morelli induced orgasms were the one constant motivator for keeping our relationship alive, but I wasn't going to inflate his ego any by telling him that.

"Just save your little problem-solver for home use only, mister! I have no desire to see it. That's _Terri's_ burden now."

"And quite the burden it can be! She is ALWAYS complaining about how big and ha…"

"EWW. Stop right there! I do not want to know anything else! Keep it to yourself, Morelli. Literally, go stick it somewhere the sun don't shine. Good Gravy, you are so egotistical! THAT has never changed!" I grumbled and slammed the cabinet door shut. "SHIT! _Where is it?_ I know it was here yesterday morning, well technically evening. I wonder if Bobby… NO! HE WOULDN'T! Even _he_ is not that low down!" I paused. "**Shit.** Maybe he is! _I'll kill him!_" I ran from the room like a woman possessed to the front door, flung it open and lurched into the hall.

"Uh, Cupcake? You do realize that you aren't fully clothed, right? Not that I'm complaining, but your neighbors might not be able to take the show. And I don't mean ethically, I mean physically! Some of these geezers look like they are one lap dance from the big dirt nap!" He trailed behind me as I ran down the stairs. I ignored him, filled with purpose and what a big surprise, rage. I reached the parking lot before Morelli did, a fact which I can honestly say I am very proud of. I only stopped when I reached my Ford Escape. Morelli pulled to a stop panting behind me.

"Geez, Cupcake. That was some," pant, heave, "fancy footwork. I would have never figured you for a sprinter," cough, pant, "…given your past history of anti-perspiration rants." He doubled over to catch his breath. I had to smile. There is a God, and she had a sense of humor. I patted Morelli on the back in friendly manner and batted my eyelashes.

"Soooo, Morelli." I grinned up into his face coquettishly, "How guilty, exactly, do you still feel about our relationship?"

"Where are you going with this, Cupcake?" He straightened his spine and looked me dead in the eye. I think he was taunting me.

"I just mean now that you admitted the whole Terri thing to me…"

"HEY! You said that was all water under the bridge!" He growled.

"So, I lied. Wouldn't be the first time…" I mumbled under my breath.

"What was that, Stephanie?"

"I was complimenting your honesty in our newfound…err…friendship." I smiled brilliantly at him and cocked a hip. I still balked at calling him a friend from time to time. My definition of what a friend did for another friend differed quite a bit from Morelli's, which we were forever debating. When I say debating I mean voices raised, slamming doors, curses, and snarling.

"What are you getting at, Stephanie?" Shit, no Cupcake. I upped the ante.

"You still care about me, right?" I batted my eyelashes prettily at him, imploring him to bend to my will.

"As much as I might regret admitting it later… Yes, yes I do."

"And you would do anything to prevent me from being hurt, right?"

"Are you in trouble, Cupcake? Need the help of certain cop… **_again_**?"

I snarled internally. Yeah, right! Like he thinks I always need him to help me out of a jam! That WAS someone else's job, a certain flying rodent. Now that position is vacant. A casualty of Steph-corps downsizing of the chest cavity, no room for emotional baggage. Ugh. Don't think about, girl. Just forget it. I focused on my current verbal victim.

"Define trouble?" At his frown I clarified. "Relax. It doesn't require a cop, per se, just a REALLY good friend."

"Oh really." Morelli backed me against the brick wall of my building a few feet from the dumpster and my car. He snagged a lock of my hair and twirled it around his index finger. "Would this task be FUN, for this FRIEND, Hmmm?" I snapped. THIS is why I can't stand Morelli as a boyfriend anymore. Hell, I could hardly stand him as a FRIEND. Even a stinky dumpster doesn't turn him off.

"Yuck, down boy. WHAT I MEANT…" I seethed as I pulled away, "was would you help me out by searching a…place. I'm looking for important evidence."

Morelli backed away with his cop face firmly locked in place. From horny and hard to robocop in 0.2 seconds flat. **_THAT _**was the other reason that I remember. I sighed.

"I didn't know you were working any big skips that required backup. What's the situation? Recon? Illegal wire tapping?" He rubbed his hands together. "I have to say hanging around you can be enlightening. Remember the wire tap I put in your bra that time." He smirked. I rushed forward before his eyes could glaze over anymore.

"No, nothing like that. I need you to search somewhere for something while I play lookout." Morelli eyed me suspiciously.

"Where would this be, Ms. Murder She Wrote?"

"Uh nearby…"

"Stephanie, I don't have time for this! I have to be back at the station soon and we still have to have that talk I came here for. Just spill it."

"The dumpster."

"Huh? **_OH NO_**. I am **not **searching any dumpster…" He backed away from me angrily. I knew the moment he caught on because he turned fifteen shades of red. "You are NOT asking me to dumpster dive in YOUR building's trash to look for your…_YOUR_…THING!"

"Judas Priest, Joe! It's just a mug! Why does it freak all you guys out so much? UGH. Just climb up and over, it won't take long…"

"Not in a million years! Not for a million DOLLARS! Hell, not for a million _Blow jobs_! **NO WAY!** I am not your keeper anymore. Where's Brown? He's your honey now, make him do it!" Joe grinned in enlightenment and leaned against the wall smugly. "That's it, isn't it? Brown THREW IT AWAY! Damn. I KNEW I liked him for some reason. Remind me to thank him for doing the world a service."

I stalked away from Joe and searched the parking lot for something to stand on.

"Whatever Morelli. FINE, don't help. SCUM. All men are SCUM, you hear me?" I growled as I snatched a box, set it beside the dumpster, and attempted to scale it. I managed to get on eye level with the lid before the cardboard gave way and I fell on my butt. I heard snickering behind me.

"NOT. ONE. WORD. MORELLI!" I brushed the back of my robe off and grimaced. "This is not how I wanted to spend my day off. I just wanted to sleep in, but NO! DAMMIT, I just went to bed two hours ago." I grumbled. "I HATE stakeouts!" I finally figured out I could scale the side by climbing my fire escape ladder and jumping to the lid from there. Just before I launched off, I heard Morelli comment: "I don't think that's such a good idea, Cupcake…" Much too late for me to reconsider. I landed right on target, but then realized that only one side of the dumpster's lids was shut. I was now waist deep in eau d' stink.

**"****Fuuuuuccck****!"**

"Uh, no thanks, Cupcake. Not right now." Morelli chuckled from the safely of the less fragrant outside world.

"SHUDDAP!" I started throwing bags around looking for mine. After leaving a blue streak in the air I found what I was looking for. **"EUREKA!"**

"Strike gold in there?"

"If you mean, smartass, did I find my mug? Yeah, I did. Now be a gentleman and help me outta here."

"No thanks, I'll pass."

"MORELLLLLLI!"

"All right, all right! Geez, I'd tell you to keep your pants on but you aren't wearing any." I saw his head pop up over the side. "The only way I am coming near you is if you let me use your shower. I can't go to work smelling like you, people would talk." He riffed.

He heaved me over the side with one hand and somehow managed to leverage me out of Pepe les Peu heaven. I retaliated the only way I knew how, I fake stumbled and slid down his chest, grim and all. I giggled. "Opps. My bad. Guess I'll have to insist you wash up now. Wouldn't want Terri or the guys to smell the real you."

"You did that on purpose!"

"And your point is?" I grinned as I walked towards my building's entrance, prize in hand.

"I am so glad you aren't my problem anymore."

"Joe, your problem _was _that I NEVER WAS YOUR PROBLEM!"

"FINE, Stephanie! THAT'S IT! GO wallow in your stench, I'm outta here."

With that Joe stalked over to his Starsky and Hutch undercover calamity and peeled out of my parking lot without looking back. Hope he rolls down the windows, other wise he'll never get the smell out of his upholstery. I should know. Queen of the vocational dumpster divers, that's me. At least there was a bright spot to my crappy beginning of a morning. I whistled and practically skipped through my lobby to the elevator. I sighed. I guess it wouldn't be fair to leave this smell in here for some innocent senior to be accosted by. DARN. I still hate stairs. No amount of training will make me like them in any form, functional or the gym machine variety. When I reached my front door I realized it was ajar. CRIPES! What a time for someone to break in. I was so distraught earlier that I had run out before packing a gun. SHIT! Well, I suppose this mug is the only thing left to me, weapon wise. I wrinkled my nose. HELL, I'd avoid it, if I were a burglar. But I know it isn't a burglar. That would be too easy. I crossed myself and prepared for ambush. Here goes nothing…

**To be continued in chapter 21…**


	7. CEotCK Chapter 21 thru 24

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

a short bridge, and looky here ma! no trolls underneath! Hope there is someone out there still enjoying this epic monstrosity…C.)

**Chapter 21**

_When I reached my front door I realized it was ajar. CRIPES! What a time for someone to break in. I was so distraught earlier that I had run out before packing a gun. SHIT! Well, I suppose this mug is the only thing left to me, weapon wise. I wrinkled my nose. HELL, I'd avoid it, if I were a burglar. But I know it isn't a burglar. That would be too easy. I crossed myself and prepared for ambush. Here goes nothing…_

I slid with my back down the hallway wall and tried to concoct a plan of action. After a solid two minutes of nada, I sighed. Okay, I sucked at this stuff, so sue me. Think, Stephanie! What would Rockford do? Besides quip a funny to the bad guys tossing his place and not losing control over his lower body functions. (What can I say, ya gotta respect a man who relies on his wit and not the gun kept in his cookie jar.) I smirked, lowered my center of gravity and leapt through my front door head first. I flung the mug, baseball style, and rolled to a stop once I hit the wall opposite my entryway. I waited and nothing happened. Well, nothing if you don't count making an ass out of myself by performing my sonic the hedgehog impersonation.

I stood up cautiously and surveyed the room. Well, shit. No one to be seen here, no one to be seen there. Dammit! I crept around the apartment and looked under everything. I even looked in my closet. No easy feat due to the unstable mountain of shoes wedged against the door. No intruder and no missing stuff. I shrugged. So I was wrong, wouldn't be the first time. I should have been happy that I didn't have some psycho performing some B&E on my humble abode. I rubbed my forearms trying to warm my suddenly chilled skin. Then how come I feel like this? _Steph__, shut up. You are overreacting._ I groaned and resisted the urge to leave a palm imprint on my head. I hate my logical inner voice. It's probably right though. Morelli just didn't shut the door when he went downstairs. I'll have to call and chew him out. I destroyed a perfectly good mug because of him and… Shit!

I whimpered and lumbered over to the ceramic carnage on my living room floor. As I picked up the pieces and threw them away, a solitary tear slid down my face. Damn Morelli! If he had just shut the freakin' door! Damn Bobby! If he hadn't tossed my mug in the first place, I wouldn't be holding an impromptu memorial over a trash can right now! Hell, why stop there when all men could be on my shit list? I stomped to my bedroom and threw off my robe. Then I stomped to the bathroom to shower and groom in record time. In all that stomping I somehow managed, a mere half hour later, to be laced up in skin tight leather pants, halter top sans bra, and low heeled, knee high kick-ass boots. I smirked at the shadowed head-to-toe image reflected back to me in my mirror, and snatched up my leather biker jacket and bounty hunter paraphernalia. Once replete with lethal instruments, I grabbed a cardboard box from the kitchen pantry and gathered up the assorted mire coating my apartment floors. I ran down the stairs toting the box on one hip and made it to parking lot.

Several productive minutes later, as I surveyed my work, the guilt started to assault me. I mean, what if someone tried to steal this stuff? Damn. I turned on a heel and ran inside to borrow a permanent marker from Dillion. I returned to the parking lot at breakneck speed, grinning the entire way. When I finished my task, I handed the thick black Sharpie back to Dillion who stood dumbstruck at my side, and giggled the giggle of the insane.

"You know, Stephanie," Dillion snorted in disbelief, "This may be the last time we talk, 'cause he's gonna kill you."

I Cheshire grinned.

"It's worth the risk, Dillion, my friend; it's definitely worth the risk."

After some meaningless chatter and discussion of the Ranger's promising upcoming season, I was motoring off; determined to put some distance between me and the crime scene.

Thirty minutes later I sat outside the home of one Jimmy 'No Neck' Picarra, my most recent skip. With a criminal record as long as my arm this two-bit scam artist, good ol' Piccy, was not a bright guy. This can be evidenced by the man's latest crime. I scanned through his file sitting in my lap and couldn't help but laugh. Dear Mr. No Neck evidently had seen one too many Ron Poppeil infomercials, because he thought he was just as slick.

With teeth glowing and hair puffed to an inch of it's greasy bouffant life, Jimmy boy had gone about his day selling his wares from the back of his '87 Oldsmobile Buick. Not strictly a crime in and of itself in Trenton, the city where even cops shop at the local backdoor boudoir. No, Jimmy's crime was stupidity. Piccy had evidently 'acquired' several sets of top of the line car radios and was selling them on Hamilton Ave. Hamilton was a mere two streets over from Stark, so needless to say no one in his right mind would normally question his methods. Things might have been okay if Piccy had stuck to his regular M.O. Unfortunately he saw a financial opportunity that couldn't be turned away and had followed a pair of gentlemen down a side street to sell them on his hot item of the week: a luxury SUV radio system. Everything went down like gangbusters until one of his 'customers', a pharmaceutical entrepreneur, recognized the speakers as his, recently relieved from his Durango. The outcome was unfortunate if not amusing.

Piccy was delivered to the station house bundled up, naked as the day he was born, with a list of serial numbers tattooed over every inch of visible skin, a VHS cassette masking taped over his forehead, and pieces of his product shoved in various orifices. That last bit of info I got off the record when I took it upon myself to get more details and called the Cop Shop. All I managed to get out of Lou, the docket lieutenant on duty that night, was that the tape was very explicit in documenting the crime being perpetrated. I couldn't decide if Lou meant the crime Piccy was guilty of or his 'victim's' crime. I just knew that Lou was pissed because he had to retrieve the 'evidence' from Picarra's person and catalogue it. I shut the file and tossed it into my back seat. These were the times I was glad I was a bounty hunter and not a cop. I didn't have to 'retrieve' anything against my will. This takedown would be too easy. As long as Picarra didn't excessively dabble with the Brill cream today, I was assured an easy hundred dollars.

I cracked my knuckles, reached over and grabbed an assortment of Little Debbie's best from my glove compartment. As I settled in with my Swiss Cake Rolls, I reflected on my life. Might as well; the radio was broken and not even a cat had twitched a whisker over at the Picarra homestead since I had arrived. I tried to be valiantly productive and mentally catalogue my bills against my seriously waning checking account. When that didn't work I made a list of items in my apartment that I should clean behind in case I died in the near future and my mother had to pack up my belongings. God only knows what names she'd curse her newly deceased daughter upon finding the new pet, Peter Cottontail, under her bed. Well, that and the pack of unopened edible undies in the nightstand my Granny gave me after the last trip to the 'fun' boutique she had discovered. I should have known anyplace nicknamed by it's patrons as Joe's Crab Shack, that wasn't a restaurant, was trouble.

When none of these topics kept my mind monopolized, I finally gave in to the wandering thoughts that kept creeping in on me. The thoughts centered on a single day in the not so distant past. I snorted violently. Why was I not surprised that I was obsessing over this subconsciously? It's not like I have ever dealt with what happened that day, not really. I was living in the aftermath of the decisions made then and I still hadn't admitted it, not even to myself. I went to grab another Swiss Cake Roll and realized the package was completely empty. Damn. I had unknowingly inhaled two packs of them! Cripes, might as well go for broke. I can always unbutton my pants for the short term remedy and for the long term, add another mile to my torturous run with Bobby tomorrow morning. I reopened the glove compartment and snatched a pack of Donut Stix. As I tore into the cellophane with my incisors, I felt my inner eye drift back unfettered to those dreaded events…

**To be continued in chapter 22…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

Okay, Here it is...better late than never. You wouldn't believe what cartoon events transpired for me to recover the 'lost' disk containing this chapter. The humanity! ahem Never again will I rush out of a room without my laptop due to fear of extreme tardiness or intense embarrassment. Needless to say the tale is one if vaudevillian proportions. But I digress…please forgive me and I hope someone out there is staying tuned into the 'Wacky 'Steen Show' C.)

**_p.s. - special thanks to Karen for making my Spanish translations more realistic and less Sesame Street._**

**Chapter 22**

_When none of these topics kept my mind monopolized, I finally gave in to the wandering thoughts that kept centering on a single day in the not so distant past. I snorted violently. Why was I not surprised that I was obsessing over this subconsciously? It's not like I have ever dealt with what happened that day, not really. I was living in the aftermath of the decisions made then and I still hadn't admitted it, not even to myself. I went to grab another Swiss cake roll and realized the package was completely empty. Damn. I had unknowingly inhaled two packs of Swiss Cake Rolls! Cripes, might as well go for broke. I reopened the glove compartment and snatched a pack of Donut Stix. As I tore into the cellophane with my incisors, I felt my inner eye drift back to those dreaded events._

I knew as soon as I woke up from Oz that things had gone from bad to worse. The guys had evidently moved me from the cold floor of the War Room to a bedroom upstairs. At first when I came to I thought they had put me in Stone/Ranger's bed, and I wanted to hyperventilate. As I lurched to an upright position and glanced around the room, I came to divine realization that this was not the case. Thank the Lord, no purple sheets. I sighed and flopped back down on my back on the bed. My first clue that I wasn't out of the woods, was when I rolled on my side and found a bunkmate sleeping beside me. I prodded the Latino man tentatively with an elbow, and he grumbled menacingly. I employed a different tactic and got the desired results. My visitor jerked awake and sprung to a sitting position.

"Chica, that better be you laying lips on me. I do not want any other lady doing it besides you."

"Yeah, yeah. Girl cooties, I know, Hector. I realize you don't like me like that." I rasped and blushed at the memory.

"I thought it was a good idea to check. I know the last time you thought I…"

"Oh Shaddup!" I growled and scrambled to perch on the edge of the huge bed.

"One time! It was one time! It didn't mean anything! I thought you were someone else when I kissed you."

Hector sobered from his jovial mood and his eyes grew sad as they studied my face intently. Hector was one of the people of whom I suspected knew more about the relationship between Ranger and I. Except I knew for fact he was aware there had been a physical one. I practically attacked him one night as he leaned over my bed while I 'slept'. I closed my eyes briefly in remembered mortification. To say the man was surprised when I locked lips on him that night would have been an understatement. Several months ago all Hector had been trying to do one late night was test my new alarm's effectiveness, and secondly my awareness, by breaking in to my apartment. The poor man got more than he bargained for and was the victim of mistaken identity. At least I knew for fact after I pulled him down into bed, pressed against me, that Hector was definitely a gay man.

"I know that is what you said before when I apologized for breaking in. I was just testing the new system, I-I did not think…"

"Its okay, Hector. I know you didn't know who I thought was breaking in and… Shit. Never mind. We already settled this. Let's move on to more interesting and recent subjects. Like what the hell happened? And where the hell am I? And whose bed am I sleeping in? I feel like friggin' Goldilocks here!"

Hector scrunched his brow and looked utterly perplexed.

"Who is this Goldilocks?"

Sometimes I overlook the thick accent and forget that Hector has not been speaking English for all that long.

"I explain it later." I sighed.

"Now answer the questions…please."

"Si, mi querida niña. Por ti soy capaz de cualquier cosa. Querida, después de conocerte lamenté no desear a las mujeres. Tal vez hubiese podido  
aliviar tu dolor y hacerte olvidarlo. Por ese error, lo lamento. El tiene que ser el tonto más grande por negarte su corazón." 1

"Huh? Hector, in English, por favor."

I had long suspected Hector reverted to his native tongue when he got emotional. That thought was a bit laughable since this was Hector we were talking about here. Hector, the 'Bulldog', is what the guys called him. Somehow I had never worked up the nerve to ask if the nickname was in reference to his stocky frame or his temperament. Why chance it? Hell, would any sane person? Maybe I shouldn't consider sanity and myself in the same sentence after today's events, a little too close for comfort for me under the circumstances. But I digress…I have no idea what would have set him off on this current bender, unless a kiss from this woman had traumatized him more than I thought possible. I had to smile at that. At least no one could accuse me of turning him gay, he had started out that way.

"Si. Pero primero, que esto te quede muy claro: te ofrezco el único amor que puedo darte, y en el futuro protegeré tu corazón con todas mis fuerzas. Nuca  
vuelvas a temer salir lastimada. Tu destino es el mío." 2

With those indecipherable words Hector grabbed my hand, brought it to his mouth and laid a soft kiss upon it. I blinked at him, tugged my hand free and laughed awkwardly.

"Uh, yeah. Right back at ya big guy." I rolled my eyes due to a little frustration and a lot of humor.

"You know I don't speak a lick of Spanish, Hector. Why torment me with it? Are you talking about what happened? Please, have pity and translate for me."

"I was speaking of past events, yes." His eyes twinkled with good humor.

"Okay, smart ass. So tell me already, this time in English."

"You passed out from stress, I am told. I was summoned in to take you upstairs to this bedroom to recover."

Trust Hector to leave out all the important details. I sighed in exasperation.

"And…" I prompted.

"And you woke up here with me."

I hate it when he is literal. I suspected he understood more English than he let on at times. I believe he falls back on the borough standard evasive tactic of 'no hablo inglés' when he wanted to avoid trouble, a classic Hector maneuver.

"Hector." I grabbed his arm and squinted down on him, summoning all my ire and frustration with the situation into that glance.

"Spill your guts. Don't make me hurt you."

He just laughed jovially.

"De acuerdo, tu estás a cargo chica. No lo quería de ninguna otra manera" 3

**"Hector!"**

"Okay, okay, mi bonita, I understand. No need to yell at poor Hector." He said while amusedly fending me off with outstretched palms.

"You want to know what happened, eh? Well, chica, Ranger and the new one fought some more after you fainted. Apparently it was over where you were to be put to recover. I gathered Ranger was not happy because he picked you up and handed you over into my arms and care. He told me to take you upstairs to my room. I think he thought you would be safest here." Hector chuckled.

"Everyone loves the gay man when it comes to point of trusting another with the care of his woman."

"I am not his woman, Hector!"

'Si, I know this." Hector looked pointedly at me before continuing.

"Some men never understand the true nature of the love of his woman."

"Hector, for the last time! I am not now nor ever have been Ranger's woman!" I emphasized my point by poking him with my fingernail in the compact and muscular pectoral muscles.

"He does not love me and I do not love him! Got it?"

I crossed my arms with a barely contained flurry of emotions rushing through my body, making me shake. Hector pulled me into a quick embrace and stroked my hair, surprising me to no end. I stood there like a limp noodle, stunned by the uncharacteristic maneuver form Hector. He was always one cool customer in the past. Why he chose this moment with me to get 'emotional' was beyond me! Why did men in general have to be so confusing? Maybe the problem wasn't with the men maybe the problem was with me. Well, shit. Great, just great! Even a gay man can tie my emotions in knots! With that lovely thought a tremendous shudder shook my spine.

"Si, I got this, mi bonita. I understand what happened. You do not need fear that I will tell anyone else. It is our secret."

I slowly let go of the angry tears that had been building in the corners of my eyes. Damn him for being so understanding. I had really wanted to lash out at someone and now I knew I would feel like a complete ass if I did anything to vent my anger. Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! I cried even harder in frustration. Hector made some shushing sounds and mutters some low phrases in Spanish, but I was beyond any comprehension. I just gave into the comfort the man holding me had offered, and let the tears flow.

Several soggy minutes later I disentangled myself from Hector's embrace and looked him in the eye.

"This never happened, got it? I didn't just perform a Tammy Faye Baker on you. Understood?"

"Tammy Faye who?" Hector asked in earnest.

I snorted an amused chuckle.

"Nevermind…" I smiled and gave him a quick hug. Before pulling away I mumbled an awkward 'thanks' in Hector's ear. He followed it up with a robust 'Da nada.'

A booming chuckle emanating from the doorway had me jumping back about a foot, skittishly. Hector and I both jerked our attention to the door. If I had not have had my hand on Hector's forearm I might have missed it. Hector had tensed up as tight as a bow string immediately upon seeing the owner of the laugh. What the hell is that about? I hope I didn't just acquire another protector. Gawd, that's all I need, I thought while rolling my eyes. Another man I had to trip over and possibly maim during the course of a day. And that's during a normalday. Cripes, who knows what would happen during a crisis! I had already shot one protector. I groaned heartily in frustration.

"Boy, Venus, you sure are effective! I bet they never see it coming. Like flies to honey…" The figure in the doorway ground out tauntingly.

**To be continued in chapter 23…**

**Loose Translations:**

1: Yes, my lovely girl. Of course anything for you. I regret after meeting you that I do not lust after women, dear one. Perhaps I could have eased your pain then and made you forget him. For that failing, I am genuinely sorry. That man has to be the biggest fool ever born to deny you his heart.

2: But first, please know this: I will offer you the only love I can, and protect your heart with my brawn in the future. Never fear harm again. Your fate is mine.

3: Fine, you are the one in charge, girl. I would not want it any other way.

**A/N: please excuse any errors made in the translations. They are indeed loose as stated above and as you can probably tell I am not a native speaker of this lovely language. Bear with me, please.**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

Ah this one is big'un. I want to thank all the loyal fanatics out there who wouldn't let me forget I had yet to put out the new chapter. Keep cracking the whip. I like it. Tingly.wiggling eyebrows LOL. I wondered if I would ever get his chapter out. Phew! .C

(P.S. - a special nod to Karen for her bilingual document checking and to my new editor, Miss Moriah. May she be nimble of red pen and continue to possess her trademark humor and grace under my chicken scratch machinegun story bursts. A bazillion thanks again my dear.)

**Chapter 23**

_A booming chuckle emanating from the doorway had me skittishly jumping back about a foot. Hector and I both jerked our attention to the door. Hector had tensed up as tight as a bow string immediately upon seeing the owner of the laugh. If I had not have had my hand on Hector's forearm I might have missed it. What the hell is that about? I hope I didn't just acquire another protector. Gawd, that's all I need, I thought while rolling my eyes. Another man I had to trip over and possibly maim during the course of a day. And that's during a normal day. Cripes, who knows what would happen during a crisis! I had already shot one protector. I groaned heartily in frustration. _

_"Boy, Venus, you sure are effective! I bet they never see it coming. Like flies to honey…" The figure in the doorway ground out tauntingly._

Well, it was bound to happen sooner or later. The devil had sent his right hand man to collect on all those broken, whispered promises I had made with myself on giving up things that were bad for me: two-day-old donuts, five-minute-rule Fritos and men included. I glared down on the source of our rude interruption like he was an oncoming Mack truck.

"Beat it, Bam-Bam."

Stone clutched his chest, pantomiming a heart attack, and arrogantly swaggered into the room with, surprisingly, Lester, who trailed behind him; the very same Lester who had nearly gone Arnold Schwarzenegger on Stone not too long ago. I narrowed my eyes trying to get a read on Lester's current disposition. Oh-kay. Dr. Phil I may not be, but from the flush in Lester's cheeks and knotted brow, I think all is not as hunky-dory as it might appear. Stone regained my attention before I had gleaned much else from Lester's body language.

"Ouch, Jersey. That really hurt. Truly, quite the comeback."

"You know what I think, Gravel-Pit? I think I don't give a tiny rat's patoot what you think is an adequate comeback or the state of your emotional health. In fact, I think I might just be beginning to tire of always seeing you around whenever the shit hits the fan! Funny how I have never been forced to physically intimidate anyone to keep the peace until you came along. Coincidence? I think not."

I had slowly advanced on Stone and away from Hector. By the end of my rant I was a few inches from Stone's chest, practically spitting my words up into his face. He responded with a chuckle and pushed me about a foot away, thereby pissing me off further. I suddenly recalled a memory when I tried to fight my older cousin Jack when I was nine. All that was missing was a straight arm to my forehead and my arms wind-milling air punches.

"Feisty. I like that, Skipper. But I have to say if you thought that was intimidation down there in that room we are gonna have to talk, Suga; especially now that we are partners. I wouldn't want you to be surprised when I show you the real meaning of applying pressure."

For a moment I reeled in forced flashback to another conversation with an equally disturbingly sexy man. The words 'apply pressure' rang through my head like the clang of a church bell. I felt the blood drain from my face before comprehending the total meaning of what Stone had said.

"Partners! How can that be? Bobby and I…" I groaned in remembrance and chagrin.

Stone grinned so wide I swear his rear molars stood up and waved hello.

"Ah, I see Swifty here has caught on finally. I was worried for a second there I was starting to become attracted to someone with the cunning of an amoeba. Yes, it is true. The Boss and I don't mean Springsteen, sent down his decree from Mt. Olympus about fifteen minutes ago after finishing his argument with Manoso."

"I'll give him this," Stone chucked merrily, "he doesn't pull punches like most men do with their 'friends.' You should have seen what he did to…"

"I think that's enough, Stone." Lester ground out and placed a warning hand on Stone's forearm.

"Tank just said to check on her, not gossip like old biddies at church bingo."

Stone shrugged off Lester's hand in the blink of an eye. He slowly swiveled his head around and gave Lester a heated glance that would shrivel most men like a six-month-old raisin.

"Watch yourself, Santos," Stone hissed out slowly.

He was completely composed except for a glitter in his eyes and I wasn't even sure that glitter meant he was angry. Too weird. How could I find myself attracted to men, again and again, who were as thick as thieves with the darker element of life and were harder to pin down than a second-hand car salesman? I groaned in frustration and in mounting trepidation of where I believed this conversation was headed.

"Oh no, he wouldn't. Tank wouldn't partner me up with you. Not even on his worst day! O… my… Gawd…" I whispered the last in numb horrification.

I stumbled away from Stone and pondered when I had fallen down the rabbit hole precisely. Was it when I exited that helicopter with Tank? I think so. That was when things went from 'normal' to wacky pharmaceutical 'wonderland' status. I still reeled with marvel as to which pill made me larger and which pill made me small. I wondered if there existed a perfect little pill that would make a certain unwanted person disappear.

"Believe it. Apparently today was his worst day." Stone chortled once more. He was really starting to get on my nerves with that.

"Oh great. This is just freakin' great!" I snorted and paced the floor.

"Let's review, shall we? I brawled for unknown reasons with a very angry, yet tiny man, calmed my evidently incredibly disturbed friend down, awakened with said friend in bed by former lover, coached a man's cajones to go north for the winter with a side show knife act, refereed a wrestling match with gunpowder, shot the man who is moving in with me in an ever-so-vital extremity and lost my partner all in one day! But wait, as if all that weren't enough, now some celestial being, presumably of demonic origin, has seen fit to saddle me with Sir Puns-Alot over here. Ugh!"

I turned and looked at the series of faces surrounding me. Stone, Les, and Hector were all quietly wearing a mask of some kind: humor, anger, and stunned bewilderment respectively. I couldn't take the silence anymore. I shuffled to the sanctuary of the bed and flopped facedown, limbs akimbo. I had given up. Why fight fate? She was always trying to bitch-slap you if you did. Clearly lying here like a side of veal in the middle of a gay man's bed was the safest and most sane option left to me. After several silent minutes filled with thoughts in this vein, Les breached the silence first.

"Uh, Steph?"

Silence reigned. I guess he laid in wait for acknowledgement of some kind on my part. Well, he could wait till the cows came home for all I cared! Oh shit. It's not totally Les' fault I was pissed off. I gave a non-committal grunt in response.

"Are you planning on staying there for the foreseeable future?"

Alright, maybe I was a little hasty with that last assessment. Les equals pig. Mystery solved.

In the spirit of my new found serenity and enlightenment, I charitably chose to answer him with a hand gesture that would send my Hungarian mother into a fit of Hail Marys. A chuckle boomed forth and I just knew that it belonged to Stone. I took the fact that I could identify it by sound alone as an omen of things to come. It figured he would be amused by my mini-breakdown. What the hell was wrong with me? Why was I fated to forever fall apart in front of this guy? Les pulled me from my mental tailspin.

"As lovely as that suggestion was, Beautiful, I would prefer a verbal answer right about now."

"Fine, the answer is 'yes.' Problem with that, buddy?" I mumbled lip deep in bed linens, refusing to lift my head from its cotton cocoon.

"Uh, No, but I just thought you'd like to know that Bobby had planned to blow this joint in a few minutes, intent on setting up residence at your pad. If you know what's good for ya, I think you'd better join him."

After that I heard muffled footsteps and the bedroom door slam shut. Ah, alone at last, sweet bliss! I felt the bed dip beside me under what could only be the weight of a man and I turned my head toward it with a sigh.

"Rats."

I addressed my next comment to the pair of brown eyes that were looking back at me.

"I thought you all left."

"Bonita 1, I will not leave you here with this one." Hector growled while gesturing to the space behind me. I closed my eyes in defeat, knowing without having to look to whom Hector had referred.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere 'Bulldog.' Deal with it," the said 'one' quipped.

"It is okay, Hector. Stone's harmless. Annoying: yes. Harder to shake off than a malnourished tick on a dog: absolutely. But dangerous? No."

Hector stood but made no immediate move toward the door to leave.

"Mi tonta pequeña 2, do not mistake; this is one is very dangerous. I will stay here to guard you."

Cripes! What was it with Hector? He had backed a few feet away to lock eyes with something behind me, presumably Stone. I gave a colossal eye roll in Hector's general direction.

"Hector, relax. I'm not Cinder-freakin'-rella and Stone isn't the wicked step-mother." I paused for a moment in thought.

"Although one could argue that he is evil, but I digress…" At Hector's perplexed look I gave up on my explaining my reference.

"Uh, nevermind. Its fine, Hector. I'll yell if I need you. I'm sure Stone just wanted to speak with me about our new work routine." I briefly turned to give the evil eye to Stone.

"Isn't that right, Stone?"

Mr. Eloquent snorted in a manner which I can only assume was an affirmation. I barely held back the urge to snarl at him.

"Be careful, cariño3. El Diablo wears may disguises." With that cryptic remark Hector exited swiftly. This time I paid close attention to my environment. From the lack of echoing footfalls down the hall, I assumed that Hector was true to his word and stood sentry on the other side of the door. Maybe he was appropriately nicknamed after all.

"I'd have to say I agree with Scrappy Doo, Jersey."

"Didn't your mother ever teach you how to make friends? You know it is a generally accepted theory that to exchange compliments in lieu of criticisms with a person often can lead to the beginning stages of companionship. Just thought you'd like to be aware…" I sat up to finally face my foe dead in the very amused eyes.

"Nah, she ran out on our happy home when I was a young'un, long before cotillion lessons. Besides, I believe no amount of good ol' boy charm would have helped me bond with Senor Scowl-N-Growl," Stone ended by gesturing to the closed bedroom door. He seemed to turn pensive for a few moments before he resumed.

"He's perceptive, that one."

It was said with no malice or regret, or well, any other normal emotion. Hell, for some reason I got the notion Stone was impressed with Hector's little display of junkyard dog bravado. I shook my head in disbelief.

"You're pretty fucked up, you know that right?"I stated matter of factly.

When Stone locked his tractor beam gaze on me from his former sightless introspection of the air, I reviewed my words and felt like the business end of a donkey.

"Oh shit. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I mean… uh… after the whole 'Mom' thing you just told me. Err; what I meant was … uh… it's just that sometimes I forget certain aspects of the beginning of a conversation even before it has ended. And by the time I remember I find that I'm already speaking, hence why I often make a complete ass out of myself about seventy-five percent of the time, like right now for instance. At least this isn't as bad as the time I…"

"Chill, Jersey. I get it; your mouth has a mind of its own. Besides it's not a big deal, just history. The past is only an albatross or stigma if you make it one."

I had no reasonable reply to that, so I did what I did best: total and unequivocal denial with a dash of avoidance thrown in for good measure.

"So, why did you want to stay in here with me? Is there something we need to talk about?" I said with arms crossed facing Stone and cocked my head to show my true interest in his answer, since I couldn't cock my eyebrow without having an epileptic fit.

"Oh, nothing big, Skipper." Stone shrugged in a non-committal manner and moved to lean against the nearby armoire. He continued with:

"Just wondering if you had any questions that I could answer for you after the whole debacle downstairs, since you, ya know, generally are the epitome of insatiable curiosity and can't normally hold back your Nancy Drew-like nosiness. Hell, when have you ever passed up the opportunity to snoop?"

What the hell? How could he know…?

"And before you ask 'how?' followed by a string of expletives just be aware that I just have a way with people. It must be the southern charm." He preened.

At my now customary eye roll and snort, he grinned.

"Or it could be that Les was entirely too chatty after a couple six-packs of Budweiser. Take your pick." He grinned with glee and then sobered.

"So, Nancy… have any pressing concerns or questions?"

Oh that was an understatement! If he only knew how long we would be here if I took him up on that offer.

"What was that, Jersey? Couldn't quite decipher that mumbled sub-banter…" Stone quipped with the perpetual smirk present; I was beginning to believe it was pasted on with atomic strength super glue. Damn him!

Damn my loose lips! I sprung from the bed and strode irritably across the room to the door. A hand that suddenly weighted down my shoulder halted any further progress on my part.

"And where do you think you're goin', Sparky, hmmm? I haven't even gotten to the portion of our conversation where I traditionally proposition you yet."

With narrowed eyes, I methodically picked off his fingers one by one and brusquely swept his hand away from my body. That accomplished I cracked the door only to observe it slammed shut again by a monstrously large hand that darted out over my shoulder. I whipped my head around angrily.

"Can't you take a hint?"

Stone startled me by searching his pockets thoroughly. I stared at him in bewilderment.

"What, pray tell, are you doing now?"

"Why, searching for hints obviously. Nope, none here. Your loss."

"Oh Lord. I walked right into that one, didn't I?" I sighed and rubbed my temple before I held up a hand and ground out between clenched teeth:

"No. Don't answer that. It was a rhetorical question, smart-ass. I can just feel your snappy retort forming from here. So save it or shove it, your preference."

I exhaled and dropped my hand from my head. No use massaging an atrophied muscle.

"No matter. I need to leave, now."

I stared at the door and the hand had yet to budge from it. What a stubborn a…

"I can see that, Miss Brusque, Queen of Subtlety. What is so hell-fire important that you felt the need to scramble out of here like your britches were blazin'?"

"For your information, Mr. Warm-and-Fuzzy, I need to find my suitcase, change back into clothes from this decade, and confront a certain former army demolition vehicle that has apparently gone haywire and run amok."

"That has the sound of a very full day; overwhelmingly taxing would be a more accurate description. Need any help with that?"

Stone wiggled his eyebrows before he opened the door and gallantly half bowed with a superfluous flourish of Old World courtly arm gestures.

I, once more, snorted as I passed through the door by him.

"I am going to pretend you have some honor and assume you were referring to helping me find my suitcase or Tank."

"You wound me, my delightful little snapping turtle," He pouted as he staggered out in mock pain after me.

"But I can think of a few ways you can make it up to me."

With the purr of the last sentence, I felt my face glow red; boiling with the possibilities that sprung unbidden to mind in all their Technicolor glory. I increased my stride and nearly ran over Hector in my wake. Damn my Hungarian hormones! Think dead puppies, Stephanie, dead puppies. I felt rather than saw Stone's hot gaze land on my backside as I heard Hector's plea.

"I do not understand, cariño.4 What dead puppies?"

"Oh sweet Lord, help me." I groaned. Would I never gain control over my verbal incontinence?

"Go ahead and ask, Jersey. You'll need all the help you can get when the time comes."

I nearly tripped over my own feet as the baritone sound of deep masculine laughter echoed from behind, haunting me.

_Flash forward two weeks to the present…_

I shook the images off like a cold, wet blanket; not wanting to recall the shape of Stone's lips as they bantered with me or the feelings they aroused. Hell, at this rate I would need one if I took into consideration my body temperature. Is it possible to self-combust from sexual frustration? I licked Twinkie cream from my fingers and groaned. I gathered the empty cellophane wrappers and angrily shoved them in the now half empty glove compartment. I guess not. When you replace sex with enough baked goods to induce a sugar coma it was more likely you'd expire from that.

I leaned back against the car head rest and groaned. Well, I guess it was better to recall that hormone fest than the 'Conversation' I had soon after that with Tank. I still smarted from finding out from Tank, of all people, that Ranger had run away… again, presumably from me. 'Left town for an indeterminate amount of time' my ass! I slammed my palm against the steering wheel and growled so hard I swear I felt my rear molars rattle. Damn Ranger! It's seems like I say that a lot lately. Shit. Fine. Whatever. Like I gave a rat's ass if Batman decides to leave town…again! It's not like he owed me anything. It's not like we ever had a _relationship_ or anything. Oh, no. Superheroes don't do commitments. Ugh.

I sighed in defeat. Well, so much for being apathetic about Ranger's return and subsequent quick departure. He made himself abundantly clear that morning with Bobby. So why did I still think, no scratch that, obsess about it? Gawd, I'm so messed up. I slumped forward and banged my head against the steering wheel a few times for good measure. Couldn't hurt at this point, it could only help. With that jaw clenching notion I returned my gaze to Picarra's house just in time to spot the weasel. Oh and see him I did. To be precise he hung bottom side sunny side up, legs flailing, out of the second story window of his row house. I barely suppressed a cackle as I lurched quietly from my Escape, handcuffs in tow. As I tucked them into my nylon utility waist belt and unholstered my gun, I couldn't help but wonder what the hell this guy was up to now. It looked like he was sneaking out of his own house for Gawd's sake! Criminal mastermind he defiantly was not. I hid in the shade of the tree beneath the aforementioned window and waited not trying to suppress my smile of amusement any longer.

As Jimmy wiggled his way down to the lowest branch, which was a good seven feet off the ground, he lost his grip, performed an ever so graceful back flip before he managed to hook his arms and legs around the trunk, koala style, and slid to the ground. As he laid there and contemplated what I can only assume would be the state of his genitals and whether or not he would ever fornicate again, I gave in, threw my head back and let loose the laugh I held back earlier. That seemed to get Piccy's attention pretty quickly. He turned to look at me, still curled in the fetal position, cupping the family jewels.

"Jesus, Lady! You almost gave me a friggin' heart attack!"

Translations:

1: beautiful

2: my foolish one

3, 4: dear one

**To be continued in chapter 24…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

For the ladies who faithfully persisted in bea...um…'encouraging' me to continue this farce. C.)

**Chapter 24**

_"Jesus, Lady! You almost gave me a friggin' heart attack!"_

"Funny, Piccy, I never imagined a rat's heart was in his crotch," I snickered with a blatant glance at his hands, "Although it does explain a lot about the men in my past." I started to lean over to give him a hand up, but quickly rescinded the offer realizing where his had been. Instead I motioned for him to rise with a wave of my Browning.

He stood and methodically pulled Brill cream encrusted twigs from his pompadour. He stilled as he caught his first good look at my face.

"Shit. You're that pyro bounty hunter bitch, aren't you? Damn it all to hell! Can my luck get any worse this week?" he grumbled.

I just assumed that was a rhetorical question as I slapped my cuffs on him and lead him down the street to my car. Though I must admit I resented the bitch comment. It's not like I had given him a reason to earn that particular title…yet.

"That's Ms. Bitch to you," I growled as I crammed him into my backseat, locked him to the roll bar I had Al install for this very purpose and engaged the child safety locks. God bless the Ford Motor Company. I slid into the front seat and started the engine. Within minutes we were off the surface streets and on the Jersey turnpike on the way to the cop shop. After the third consecutive groan erupted from the back seat I snuck a peek at Piccy in the rear view mirror.

"Jesus, keep it down back there! It's not like this is your first trip to jail."

"Don't remind me," he uttered with chagrin.

"Sorry. Did the tattoos come off?" I deadpanned, barely containing my humor.

"Aw, man. I am so fucked. Everyone is laughing at me: the cops, my customers, and hell, even you! I crack everyone up except for my wife apparently. Can you believe she walked out on me over this shit? How was I to know that friggin' guy was who he was when I sold him that stuff! My life is a total crap shoot," he bemoaned. He locked eyes with me in the mirror's reflection; I suppose looking for sympathy.

"Now I gotta live with my Ma and that ain't no cake walk let me tell ya! My boxers haven't been this stiffly starched since high school. Do you believe she even locked me in my bedroom tonight without dinner?" he mumbled.

I chortled merrily before regaining control. Oh man, was this guy whipped or what?

"I take it that's why you were sneaking out?" I inquired with ill concealed mirth still dancing in my eyes.

"Yeah, I couldn't take one more minute of: 'Jimmy, why are you such a screw up? I should have known you'd never amount to anything. Why, what will the neighbors think of this latest stunt? A bad seed that's what you are, Jim Allan Picarra, a bad seed!" he finished in a gratingly high pitched voice, which I assumed was an accurate rendition of his mother's.

"Old Biddy," he grumbled.

I couldn't help but agree.

Picarra sobered with eerie despondency and whispered: "Why can't she just accept me for who I am?"

Suddenly he didn't seem quite so pathetically amusing. I squirmed uncomfortably in my seat. Piccy's situation struck a little too close to home for my comfort. Hell, my skin was crawling. I decided to change the subject before either of us felt compelled to emotionally bond further and weep like two sad saps on _Montel_.

"Well, it could be worse," I uttered witlessly.

He snorted in response.

"Well, it could!" I felt compelled to defend myself.

"How?" he growled sarcastically.

"Hell if I know. It's just one of those things you say to someone. It seemed appropriate. People are always saying it to me." I shrugged apologetically.

"And does it make you feel any better?" he asked with his head turned to blindly stare out the rear passenger window.

"Point taken," I mumbled.

Our little impromptu heart to heart over with, we drove in relative silence the rest if the trip to the police station. As I pulled off the highway exit I swore I saw in the rear view mirror a black sedan with limo tinted windows swerve across two lanes of traffic to follow us.

A tail? Nah, why would anyone want to follow me? I hadn't pissed anyone off lately, to my knowledge. No crazy geek gamers, mobsters obsessed with _Risk_, or sexually deviant prize fighters in sight, I swear! To be on the safe side I decided to keep a close eye on the sedan. I breathed an audible sigh when it turned off to the right at the second intersection before the police station. I was spending too much time with the guys; their _X-file_ paranoia was rubbing off.

As I turned toward the rear police parking lot entrance, I realized the gates were closed. That's weird.

I circled the block twice to look for a parking space out front on the street. As there were none, I decided to double park about thirty yards past the TPD front entrance. I figured I'd bitch my way out of a ticket if some hard ass cop called me on it. They were the ones to shut the gate, so I aptly reasoned that the boys in blue were solely responsible for the blatant parking violation, not me; so there. Valid reasoning to be sure.

I got out, opened the rear door of the Escape, and unshackled Jimmy Picarra.

"All ashore that's going ashore."

He hesitated getting out of the car. I rolled my eyes at him. Some men could be such babies about the prospect of prison. Maybe it the man-bitch phobia. That I could understand.

"C'mon, Picarra!" I growled impatiently, "Move it or lose it." He just shot me a blank look.

"Do you feel that?" he asked with a seriously furrowed brow.

What the hell is he whining about now? I grumbled mentally in frustration. This guy was a total head case, sympathetic Mommie Dearest issues aside. I decided to placate him, thinking it was the fastest and easiest way to get his tattooed hindquarters out of my escape. Less chance of getting hair tonic stains on my upholstery, too.

"Feel what?"

"Like someone's watching us," he whispered with a trembling voice.

I started to think 'what a loon' but for some reason my mind flashed on the sedan I spotted earlier. I shuddered and yet dismissed him at the same time.

"Yeah, it's probably some cop looking out their office window that you're picking up on, Mulder. Probably wondering why we have been sitting here so long in the middle of the street, immobile, waiting for the mother ship, no doubt. Now move your ass!" I growled as I hauled him across the seat and outside the Escape.

As I slammed his door shut I realized I had left my gun in the car. Shit. I grabbed Piccy's hand unceremoniously, handcuffed it to the roof luggage rack and walked back over to the driver side door. With the door hanging open I glanced around inside and didn't spot the gun right away. Crap, I must have knocked it on the floorboards on the ride over. Way to go, Stephanie. I could just hear Bobby bitching me out in my head over my poor gun etiquette.

I was still bent over the seat, rooting around fruitlessly, as I heard the squeal of tires and one very frightened skip. I glanced up over the head rest just in time to see a familiar car take the corner at warp speed and was now racing headlong towards us. I scrambled outside thinking I still had time to get Picarra uncuffed. It's amazing what stupid things go through your head in these types of situations. I had the handcuff key in the lock when the sedan collided.

The god damned key broke, was all I could think as I sailed through the air. My back collided with something that felt like a brick wall, and very well could have been for the way my internal organs felt. I heard an eerie tearing sound. No worries, just my ligaments and spine, I'm sure. I heard a shrill pain filled scream. Gee, I hope some one helps that woman. It took me a while to realize it had emanated from me. What a time to have a _Crossing Over _experience. I slid with my back down the surface and fell limply forward onto my head on asphalt, settling into a mercifully black abyss.

**To be continued in chapter 25…**


	8. CEotCK Chapter 25 thru 28

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note: STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON-PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

Dedicated to those unfortunates who haven't yet wrapped their hands around TBO yet. raising hand Do I count? C.)

**Chapter 25**

_I was still bent over the seat, rooting around fruitlessly, as I heard the squeal of tires and one very frightened skip. I glanced up over the head rest just in time to see a familiar car take the corner at warp speed and was now racing headlong towards us. I scrambled outside thinking I still had time to get Picarra uncuffed. It's amazing what stupid things go through your head in these types of situations. I had the handcuff key in the lock when the sedan collided. _

_The god damned key broke, was all I could think as I sailed through the air. My back collided with something that felt like a brick wall, and very well could have been for the way my internal organs felt. I heard an eerie tearing sound. No worries, just my ligaments and spine, I'm sure. I heard a shrill pain filled scream. Gee, I hope some one helps that woman. It took me a while to realize it had emanated from me. What a time to have a 'Crossing Over' experience. I slid with my back down the surface and fell limply forward onto my head on asphalt, settling into a mercifully black abyss._

****

****

I groaned with recognition as my eyes cracked open to the sight of stained acoustic ceiling tiles.

"Gawd damned hospitals…"I muttered hoarsely.

"Well, if I had my way that's where you'd be right now, Cupcake, not in the damned police station lobby…although it might just be safer for all concerned to lock you up in a holding cell so you don't kill yourself," an annoyingly familiar voice boomed.

"Wha… huh?" I stuttered eloquently. I tried to sit up but some invisible force with a strong grip held me down and ordered me not to move. I tried to turn my head to discover who it was, but was impeded by fireworks worthy of the fourth of July behind my eyeballs.

"You're lucky to be alive, you know. Damn it, Stephanie!" Joe growled, "Do you know why I…"

I had heard this particular song and dance many, _many_ times before so instead of wasting my time, I tuned him out so I could try to figure out what the hell just happened to me. I hate when I acquire Swiss cheese syndrome. Let's see, the last thing I remembered was getting out of my car and then looking for my gun…Oh shit. The sedan. Jimmy Picarra. Oh shit, shit, shit.

"I thought I was done with this worrying myself into an ulcer shit when we broke up. You are going to be the death of me, I just know it!" Joe was still ranting. From past experience I estimated he had a good ten minutes of this left in him, and I didn't have the time to wait him out.

"Joe," I Interrupted.

He ignored me. From the echo of his voice I surmised Joe seemed to be pacing the room. Hell, he could be dancing the nutcracker in a pink tutu for all my knowledge; my head was jack-hammering so hard that I couldn't think straight.

"Stop moving around and listen to me, Morelli. You're making my head hurt."

"You sure that wasn't caused by the wall and not me, Cupcake?" He laughed caustically, "Because that would make a whole lot more sense since that's what you hit! Why can't you just quit that damn job?"

This was not going well. I tried again.

"Joe," I said a little louder this time, "Joe, stop pacing and listen to me."

No luck. Gentle Jungle Jim was still primal growling and stalking around the room in turns. I could almost hear the distant rhythmic beat of tribal drums accompanying his display.

"Morelli!" I shouted, causing Notre Dame's bells to serenade me in my head. He stopped and glared at me.

"Shuddup, will ya please! What happened to my skip? You know, tall, dark and stupid, a.k.a. Jimmy Picarra?"

Morelli's immediate reaction is what gave it away. Cop face in all its stony glory. Damn, whatever happened was bad… very bad.

Someone in a light colored uniform shined a pen light in my eyes. I grimaced and tried to pull away from his grasp.

"OW! Fuck, fuck, fuck!" I uttered genteelly.

"Ma'am, please lie still. I need to finish my examination before we load you up on the bus," the EMT stated clinically.

I looked up at his face. Damn it! It figured. Low and behold, my good buddy, Grumpy the Dwarf, from my last bloody encounter. What were the odds? Don't answer that.

"Stephanie," Morelli stated in monotone, "What happened?"

Shit, that sounds like detective voice.

"Isn't that my line, Morelli?" I sighed in exasperation. I knew he wasn't going to answer any of my questions now. He had his own agenda; the infamous 'just the facts ma'am' agenda.

"Stephanie," Uh-oh, "I tried to tell you earlier, before the dumpster dive at your apartment, that your last skip…"

"Outta my way, Morelli!" I snarled, impatient with this Abbot and Costello routine, and lurched to my feet. Morelli put an arm out to stop me. It was a big mistake on his part. I reacted on instinct and effectively caught him off guard by grabbing his wrist with both hands, spun around and used his momentum to toss him over my shoulder. It cost me a lot, though. By the time I made it to the exit the nausea was pulling me under like a coastal riptide, my ribcage burned and my back muscles were seized in an agony of knots. I heard people scrambling behind me; whether to assist Joe or stop me, I'm not sure. As I staggered through the front double doors, that all didn't seem to matter much anymore. My stomach rebelled at the sight before me. I stumbled to the ground with the kind assistance of a nearby wall and melodically emptied its contents.

When I finally collected myself enough to roll off all fours and wipe my mouth with my sleeve, I realized I had an audience and apparently they had been there for some time. Eddie Gazzara, my cousin by marriage and best bud since diapers, was rubbing my back in little comforting circular hand motions from a crouched position beside me. I glanced around and saw numerous figures in blue milling around me. I would have to do this in front of the whole Trenton P.D. I closed my eyes for a second and took a wobbly, deep breath.

"I tried to tell you, Cupcake. He's dead." Morelli stated while in a squatting position mirror opposite of Eddie's.

"Gawd, I'd hope so…" I shakily choked out with a barely concealed hysterical gurgle of laughter after reopening my eyes. I felt more than saw the look Eddie, Morelli and Grumpy exchanged over my head.

"Miss, you shouldn't move!" Grumpy growled from above me as he unceremoniously shoved Eddie aside to examine me once again.

"You might feel okay now, but you could have some internal injuries. Does this hurt?" he asked as me prodded me with his stubby latex fingers in the ribs and back. My wailed moan with flailing limbs must have answered his 'yes' or 'no' question sufficiently because he moved on to next question.

"How would you rate the pain on scale of one to ten?" he asked, grilling me like a drill sergeant.

"Fuck off." I managed to gasp out in response between pain laced pants, while cradling my ribcage with both arms. I saw him frown and then mark 'ten' on his paper eval from. Guess there wasn't an official box to check for my answer. Oh darn.

"Okay, miss, we are going to load you on the ambulance now to finish this exam since we keep getting interrupted here." With that comment Grumpy took a moment to glare at Morelli before returning it to me.

"You will have to be more cooperative if you want the best medical care. I need to evaluate how serious your injuries are…"

"Oh, no. I'm fine. I don't need some ham-fisted dwarf to tell me that. Paws off buddy! Go trudge back to your mine!" I snarled and pulled away from him, swooning a bit as I did. Eddie lurched forward to grab hold of my arm as I struggled to my feet. I sent him a gracious look and saw him frown in return. Before I could tell Eddie off, the little pygmy started shouting, practically hopping about, as little people in story books are wont to do. I'll have to ask Randy if he deals with his anger this way too. It's not very menacing, that's for sure.

"Look here, miss, I don't have to take that! You must have a bigger head injury than I thought if you think I am gonna sit here and take that kind of abuse…"

Joe derailed Grumpy's tirade with one of his own in my defense. I blinked, wide-eyed, in surprise. This was an interesting new development. Huh, break up with someone and suddenly they're a decent human being. Go figure.

Eddie gained my attention by herding me away from the two now snarling beasts to the nearby ambulance at the curb. I opened my mouth to protest only to have Eddie stifle it with this hand.

"Don't fuss, Steph. Just sit." Eddie urged with a steely eyes. I must have been weaker-willed than usual because I obeyed with no further comment. I'm just gonna blame it on the shock.

Once Eddie settled on the bumper beside me, Grumpy's partner, a much nicer looking fellow with no resemblance to any Disney character whatsoever, ambled up with an apologetic smile. He finished the exam within five minutes and gave me a stern recommendation to allow myself to be transferred to the ER, explaining to me that only the awning over the door I landed on saved me from further severe injury. I figured I've had worse than a set of bruised ribs and a possible light concussion and didn't see the need to involve doctors in the situation, so I told him so. The EMT just shook his head woefully, had me sign a release form and left me to my own devices in the back of the rig.

"Jesus, Steph! Why do you have to be so stubborn?" Eddie growled.

"Genetics, I suppose. Isn't that how most people get it?" I arched back to him nonchalantly as I returned to my feet with a slight swaying motion. Ugh. Damn fuzzy head.

"Stephanie, dammit! Look, you can't even stand up with out getting dizzy can you? Just suck it up and go to the hospital already!" Eddie's eyes were blazing. I had never seen him so animated. Not even that time when my Cousin Shirley thought he was cheating on her with a meter maid, got pissed, locked him out of the house and threw all his clothes off the Clark Street Bridge.

"Better watch it, Eddie. You sound just like Morelli," I mock smiled and chased it with a loud snort.

"It isn't funny, Stephanie. You could have been killed!" He stopped mid rant and wiped an exasperated hand over his features before they went slack. When he continued it was with a much more controlled and calm demeanor.

"Look, just take care of yourself, okay? You don't want to end up Kentucky fried like your skip back there," he said and hooked a thumb over his shoulder to illustrate. My nausea returned as I got another peek at the crispy remains of Jimmy Picarra still smoldering by the hunk of twisted metal that formerly was my sunny yellow Ford Escape. I surmised from the presence of the firefighters with hoses still blasting water and the billowing black cloud hanging over the area where my car should have been that the impact of the collision from the sedan ignited more than my Peter Pan-like flight. Someone should tell the Ford Motor Company that their gas tanks weren't very safe. But to give them credit, I doubt they had a safety test worthy of the Stephanie Plum catastrophe rating. I darted my eyes back to Eddie's face desperate to have something else to concentrate on. Anything but the gory lump now semi-concealed by the coroner's sheet lying on the ground several yards away.

"Did Morelli tell you about Joey Larone yet? You know your skip that went missing a couple months ago?" I shook my head, grateful for the verbal distraction from the horrors over his shoulder. Eddie continued with a weary sigh.

"I probably shouldn't be the one telling you this, but…'" he cast a surreptitious glance over both shoulders before continuing, "a beat cop on the night shift a couple weeks ago came across a floater down by the river in Gramercy Park. Head and hands were missing, presumably lopped off post-mortem according to the coroner's assistant, Rickman, that I play Friday poker with. They were lucky and got a positive ID, thanks to a tattoo…"

I sighed.

"Let me guess, the corpse has a blue panther inked on his left shoulder…" Damn. Why were the unusual corpses discovered in this town always connected to me somehow? I felt the blood drain from my face and a new headache re-emerged.

"Yeah, you got it in one. And you can bet Morelli's next question to you is gonna be about your whereabouts around the time of his death."

I blinked at him for a moment.

"You're joking."

He shook his head gravely.

"Nope, the scuttlebutt I heard is that the Chief wants Morelli on you like white on rice. Seems they have something to connect you to the body. Wish I could tell you more but that's all I could bribe out of the chief's secretary. As it is my ass will be grass if anyone finds out I…"

"Don't worry, Eddie. It's in the vault." I managed to recover from my shock enough to tease him. He smiled slightly at the words.

"Yeah, but anyone with a pint of Chunky Monkey knows your combination, Steph. Remember I know you better that I know myself." He chuckled.

"Well, then it's a good thing I gave up ice cream for Lent, isn't it." I retorted with crossed arms.

"Uh-huh, I'm Catholic too. I know my advent calendar, Chicky, and we aren't anywhere near Lent."

"Mere semantics," I stated as I waved his comment off with a painful half shrug.

"This didn't come form me, but maybe you should lie low for a few days…take time off even. You have vacation days coming right?" he asked.

I rolled my eyes.

"Uh-huh, yeah right, Vincent Plum and vacation in the same sentence. That's feasible," I mumbled.

"Well, you should maybe find a different job for awhile, Steph." He stated with a firm unwavering gaze.

'Got it, Eddie. Never let it be said that I can't read between the lines." I stated with a tiny smile tilting the corners of my mouth.

He grumbled some derogatory remarks about that comment before pulling me in for a quick hug. He pushed out of it before I even realized what he was doing. He turned and strode a few yards away before stopping and spinning round to face me again.

"Do you have a ride?" he asked in a worried tone, "because I don't want you running around like this..."

'Yeah, yeah, Dad. I have someone I can call." I realized as I said it that I didn't have a cell phone anymore. Rats. It was probably a flaming plastic shish-ka-bob by now. Eddie must have understood because he walked back to my side with a small cell that he pulled out of his jacket pocket. I raised both eyebrows in surprise.

"What? I finally took your advice and joined the twenty-first century. Well that and Shirl was always harping on how she couldn't reach me all the time." He shrugged. I shuddered on his behalf. Hard to believe my cousin and I were related sometimes. I took the phone and stared at it for a moment trying to decide who to call. I finally dialed the number of the one person I knew who wouldn't press me for details over the phone. That accomplished I handed it back to Eddie.

"He said he'll be here in ten." I told him reassuringly. It seemed to ease the tension from his shoulders a bit.

"Who is coming?" he inquired. I guess he wasn't as relived as I thought.

I just smiled mysteriously in response.

"Fine be that way. See if I tell you anymore secrets in the future…" he threatened me with a grin.

"Buh-bye, Eddie. Take care." I mocked him with a finger wave. He grunted once and returned his cell to its home. He sobered in the blink of an eye, startling me. I guess I was going to get another admonishment on safety now. I held back the exasperated sigh…barely. Eddie looked over his shoulder before returning his gaze to mine. I had followed his lead and saw him looking at Morelli. I raised my eyebrows in silent inquiry and tapped my foot. It's a good thing I didn't sigh after all, because I probably would have swallowed my tongue at what he said next.

"Go easy on him, Steph. He only says some of those hurtful things because he is upset. We, men as a species, are stupid like that. And before you say it, I know you two broke up, but it's not like a water faucet. You can't expect him to just shut the feelings off overnight, okay?" With that cryptic remark he spun on heel and strode back to the milling crowd of blue uniforms.

You could have knocked me over with a feather. Edward Gazzara was defending Joseph Morelli? This coming from the very same guy in high school who had gnashed his teeth and vowed bloody vengeance on Morelli on my behalf after reading a few choice entertainment establishments' and arena walls? That was unexpected. Huh. Something to ruminate over until my ride shows up, I guess. I sat on that bumper doing just that until I heard the familiar purr of a luxury car. I turned my head toward the sound. That noise signaled time to go, and not a moment too soon if you ask me. It looked like Morelli was slowly making his way via a circular route through the press of bodies, walking in my general direction. I scanned the crowd quickly and waited until Morelli looked away before disappearing around the corner of the ambulance. I made it to the waiting steel gray Mercedes idling across the street without incident. As I reached over to open the door I couldn't help but think: 'Now if only the ride home to my apartment would go as smoothly…'

**To be continued in chapter 26…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

Dedicated to those that I dread to name as friends for fear that they would retaliate. Thank you for hugging me and making me seem not quite as crazy as others would perceive. Lol C.)

**Chapter 26**

_You could have knocked me over with a feather. Edward Gazzara__ was defending Joseph Morelli? This coming from the very same guy in high school who had gnashed his teeth and vowed bloody vengeance on Morelli on my behalf after reading a few choice entertainment establishments and arena walls? That was unexpected. Huh. Something to ruminate over until my ride shows up, I guess. I sat on that bumper doing just that until I heard the familiar purr of a luxury car. I turned my head toward the sound. That noise signaled time to go, and not a moment too soon if you ask me. It looked like Morelli was slowly making his way via a circular route through the press of bodies, walking in my general direction. I scanned the crowd quickly and waited until Morelli looked away before disappearing around the corner of the ambulance. I made it to the waiting steel gray Mercedes idling across the street without incident. As I reached over to open the door I couldn't help but think: 'Now if only the ride home to my apartment would go as smoothly…'_

I slid into the leather interior of the bucket seat with as much grace as I could muster with my injuries, i.e. wincing and groaning the entire time, and faced my companion as I slammed the car door shut.

"I'd ask what happened to you but I think I can pretty much guess," the driver chuckled. "They weren't exaggerating about that Bombshell business, huh?"

I glared at him. Was it too much to ask that the merry men not to tell Stone about every friggin' fiery exploit I had been involved with since making my grand debut as a primo bounty hunter four years ago? Gossip mongering bastards.

"Not another word, just drive!" I growled lowly, "I'll dish when we get to my place."

Stone looked like he was going to protest until he saw me turn and point to the shadowy figure that was even now jogging crossing the street towards us. That Morelli sure didn't waste time, did he? The engine revved and we took off in a blaze of reckless speed normally reserved for NASCAR professionals and jet pilots.

Amazingly Stone stayed completely silent without any further prompting from me. It must have been sheer torture. When his lips started twitching uncontrollably I knew the gig was up. Rats, I had really enjoyed those blissful two minutes.

"So do I get to ask why you smell like Cajun barbecue yet?" He arched the question as the smile he was fighting turned into a full-blown grin. I'm sure he had some witty things to say after that, but I didn't hear it. All I could do was think of was pork. Brunt pork. That's what it… _he_… smelled like. A shudder ran through my body and I rubbed my arms to warm my skin. Poor Piccy. The schmuck never had a chance. I should never have handcuffed him to the luggage rack, I…

My thoughts came to an abrupt halt when I realized the car had too. I looked around and realized the Mercedes was sitting curbside on a street I didn't recognize. From the lack of ticking sounds from the now silent engine, I realized we must have been sitting there for a while. I turned towards Stone. He was arranged in the seat with his torso toward me, watching me with a completely somber expression affixed, and had a solitary arm hooked behind the headrest as he leaned against the door. A gal couldn't help but admire the way his pectoral muscles pulled the fabric of his blue shirt taunt to showcase his muscular chest… and the outline of his leather shoulder holster. I sighed shakily. How could one man manage to look so sexy and yet so dangerous at the same time? The thing that bothered me the most though was that he wasn't teasing me anymore; it was disturbing. I shuddered again for an entirely new reason.

"Something wrong, Stone?" I ventured.

He arched a brow. Could everyone besides me do that?

"Funny, Jersey, that was just what I was gonna ask."

"Huh?" I cleverly returned.

"Well, something sure as hell happened to you back there, dammit. You have been shaking like a leaf and talking to yourself for the last five minutes with no awareness of your surrounding. And I came to that conclusion discounting the fact that you are sporting quite a few bruises on your puss that a boxer would envy."

"Never let it be said that you are slow, Pebbles," I sighed.

His hand darted out and smoothed my hair back from my face, lingering gingerly over my cheek. I winced in pain and pulled away. I flipped down the passenger side sun visor and looked at my face in the mirror. Angry red, scabby scratches and lumpy welts were running parallel to my hairline and left cheekbone; must have been from the asphalt when I broke the fall with my face. I rolled my eyes and even that small motion hurt. Geez, I knew I was scratched up when the EMT scrubbed disinfectant on my face earlier, but I didn't think it was this bad. I looked like a side of beef; a slimy, week-old pot-roast actually. No wonder Eddie and the EMT had harped at me to go the hospital. I slammed the visor shut and glanced back toward Stone as he grabbed my hand and settled it in his lap. Stunned didn't cover my reaction. The action and the look on his face could only be called tender, and that was one word I didn't associate with Stone very often... hell, who are we kidding here. I didn't associate it with him at all! I tried to pull my hand away but Stone resisted the motion and clenched my hand between his thighs. I felt the molten heat rise in my face and tried to clear my throat awkwardly. He grinned. Oh-kay, this Stone I could deal with.

"Unhand me, you dirty ape," I snarled, hoping he would think all the flushing was from anger alone.

"What's the matter, Skipper?" he smirked, "Afraid of my magnetic pull? Please control yourself. I don't put out _before_ the first date; I'm just not that kind of guy."

"Smart ass," I muttered trying to withhold the smile he had coaxed from me with his actions.

He leaned over and wiggled his brows at me.

"See! Still thinking about my ass, huh?" he asked. I started laughing. Fool.

"So you gonna tell me what happened now?" he inquired when I finally recovered a modicum of composure.

"Let's get back on the road and I'll explain," I informed him. He turned back around and started the engine but didn't release my hand from his lap. Needless to say I found it hard to concentrate as we sped off. I told him everything that happened with Picarra, from the takedown to the explosion, only leaving out the info about Piccy's mother issues. Didn't want him to draw any parallels in the future, now did we. By the time I wrapped up with the news of the discovery of the former Mr. Joey Larone, Eddie's illuminating advice and Morelli's belated chase, we had arrived at my apartment building's parking lot. Stone shut off the engine and studied me for a silent minute. It made me nervous.

"What!" I gasped. He chuckled shaking his head.

"It's just that I have never met anyone who has these kind of problems before… who wasn't a serial killer or cartoon character," he guffawed.

I rolled my eyes, unceremoniously pulled my hand from his warm grasp, and sprang from the car in a huff. As I stomped toward the front door, I realized I didn't hear him following me. The dawn came upon me like the clarity of a thousand-watt bulb. The fire escape, oh shit. I whirled around to find Stone doubled over at the waist laughing so hard that tears were streaming down his beet red face. I glared at him with crossed arms and testily tapped my foot until he recovered.

"Are you done, Giggles?" I spat haughtily which apparently just set him off again. I spun around. I had enough of this crap. Chuckles could just sit out here by himself for a while. I was running out of valuable get-away minutes to escape Morelli. If I knew him, and I did, he would be over here breaking in faster than you could say 'MacGyver."

I had made it to the stairwell by the time Stone caught up with me and grabbed my elbow. I glared at his hand until he removed it and resumed my ascent upstairs, except at a slower pace this time with Stone at my side.

"So had a Lover's spat, did we, Jersey?" Stone intoned voice merry with amusement. I growled.

"What'd he do to earn having all his worldly goods hung out to dry, so to speak?" He chuckled.

"The asshole broke my mug." I said calmly belying my irritation.

"Way to go, Brown!" Stone cheered with glee. "It's about time someone put it out of its misery."

"That's not funny. Why does everyone hate it so much anyway?" I asked in bewilderment.

As we walked through the doorway from the stairwell to the second floor, stone looked at me and grinned.

"Hey, it's not every day you see a see someone drinking out of a cup with a picture of a big, dirty…" He trailed off and whipped his gun out toward the general direction of my apartment door.

"What were you…?" I started and lost my train of thought upon seeing whom Stone held at gunpoint. I smiled when I spied my landlord, Dillion, frozen mid-hammer motion, tacking a pink notice up on my door. He looked like he was about to lose control over his bodily functions. I guess seeing a guy like Stone pull a gun on me might make me wish for Depends too. The smile faded as soon as I realized what that paper was. I spoke to Stone next but kept my narrowed eyes on Dillion, the traitor.

"Put it down, Stone. I know him. He's harmless enough, for a backstabbing…"

"Hey! I didn't have any choice in the matter, Stephanie. You know if it were up to me I wouldn't be doing his." He gasped backing warily from the doorway as I advanced on him. At another time I might be amused since he was the one who had at least fifty pounds on me and a hammer.

I yanked the pick monstrosity from the door and read it even though I knew what it represented. I gasped when I got to the reason.

"In violation of lease per section five of the morality clause!" I yelled at him, causing Dillion to jump about a foot into the air. I heard a chuckle from behind me but I ignored it.

"What the fuck does that mean?" I snarled.

"I think it means loose hips sink ships, Jersey." Stone deadpanned. I ignored him.

"Steph, look, I'm sorry. The owners called me this morning. Apparently they got some calls from some tenants and, well, they were under the impression you are running an escort service," Dillion gulped out.

"What!" I screamed. At that moment I saw my neighbor Mrs. Simmons stick her head of her door to see what the commotion was about. She sniffed at me and I swear I heard her mutter the word 'hussy' under breath as the door slammed shut. Guess we know who narced, don't we?

"Dillion, why would they think…?"

"Think about it, Steph all those scary looking guys coming and going from here at all hours the last three and half years. If I didn't know better myself…"

"But that's just it, Dillion. You do know better!" I shouted.

He shook his head with a sad smile.

"Yeah, I do. But it doesn't matter. I think the owners were just looking for an excuse because of…"

"All the dead bodies, break-ins and fire bombings. Yeah, yeah, I get the point, Dillion." I finished for him and shut my eyes briefly with a sigh. Today was a nightmare. You find one body, okay maybe more than one, and you are all of a sudden branded a lady of the night.

Dillion made some more excuses and scrambled from my sight as I unlocked my door. Stone followed me in as I started pulling a couple suitcases from the front hall closet and opened them on the floor before me.

"So what's the plan now, Heidi Fleiss?" Stone quipped. Little did he know that was just what I was thinking…

**To be continued in chapter 27…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit a.k.a. Christine**

Note: STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON-PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

To Ellie, who made me laugh today; Much love to you girl from the fabulous MS. Oral Looselips. And to Marcie for being my steadfast friend despite the consequences of the police raids on our crazy compound and threat of jail time. ("I swear officer she was the one who set the fire, not me.") .also thanking Aly and Moriah for numerous helpful reasons C.)

**Chapter 27**

_Dillion__ made some more excuses and scrambled from my sight as I unlocked my door. Stone followed me in as I started pulling a couple suitcases from the front hall closet and opened them._

_"So what's the plan now, Heidi Fleiss?" Stone quipped. Little did he know that was just what I was thinking…_

I stopped mid suitcase introspection to look at Stone. I studied his face for a full minute before answering. I don't know what I expected to find there. Support? Understanding? Sympathy? An offer to whisk me away to a deserted tropical isle with no means of communication with the outside world? Hmm, the last sounded better by the minute.

"What's it look like? I'm packing. Do me a favor and go grab Rex's cage from the kitchen counter. Oh, and don't forget his food pellets. There're in the strawberry pop-tart box in the cupboard over the microwave. And don't jostle the cage; he gets motion sickness easily," I instructed him as I walked to the bathroom and started shoving toiletries inside my bag. I swear he mumbled something about Dramamine and rats under his breath on his way to the kitchen. I wisely chose to ignore him. I know, very uncharacteristic of me.

By the time I made my way to my bedroom closet I had filled the second and third suitcases. I was trying to find a way to cram my favorite pink FMPs inside the pocket of the near bursting fourth when I realized someone was staring at me. I turned around to find Stone nonchalantly leaning a shoulder against the bedroom doorjamb. He bore the weight of the first suitcase over his broad shoulder and his lips tipped up in a semi-smirk.

"What?" I huffed and carefully stood up after throwing the duffel strap over my shoulder. I staggered a bit under its bulk. Who knew shoes could weigh so much?

"So, where are we scurrying off to?" Stone uttered. I walked over to the two remaining suitcases and tried to pick them up. After dropping them twice each on my big toe I turned a very pointed look on Stone and then at the suitcases. He chuckled, walked over to the bags, and picked them up with ease after handing me Rex's cage. Show off.

I strode out into the living room and checked the answering machine. That's odd; No messages. I sighed. No one loves me. Oh, well. I guess I should be glad Morelli hadn't found access to a phone yet. He could weave a blue streak better than any other person I knew when he was pissed…well, except for Lula. Street 'ho beats sailor hands down every time.

"I am going to my parents' place to crash for awhile. Do you really want me to tell you where to go?" I fluttered my eyelashes at him as I duck walked over to the front door. Was there ever any graceful way to lug a bag? Huh, guess not. This must be why Grace Kelly married a prince; the fringe benefits. Why couldn't I find my prince? Or even a rakish intergalactic space-pilot? Must be due to all the damn frogs I keep kissing; either that or the eau de corpse that keeps lingering around me like a black cloud, take your pick.

We shuffled into the hallway and shut the door. I fiddled with the deadbolt for a solid minute, trying to lock it without success. Laughter boomed over my shoulder before Stone shook his head, took pity on me and grabbed the key. I snorted. Damn meddling men! Who needs them? I don't. I managed very well without one so far, right? I spun haphazardly and marched down to the elevator somehow managing to retain the pissy mood long enough to get in the car and activate the elevators doors. I realized the gravity of my error as the doors closed on seriously flaming eye sockets. Shit. Now that I think about it, I depended a lot on men, good men. Men like Bobby, Lester, Tank, Eddie, Morelli, Hector, Rang… um… even Stone. I leaned against the elevator wall with eyes tightly shut thinking furiously. How do you get out of this one, Plum? Let's see, no visible way out. I glanced momentarily at the trapdoor in the ceiling with the unidentifiable brown strain. Well, a way that I was willing to use anyway. I heard the car squeaking slowly down, not terribly unlike the gears turning on an open fire spit.

Fuck.

I panicked. An alarm blared as I hit the emergency stop button. Well, it was an emergency, of sorts. As the car finally stilled, I paced in circles trying to think of a creditable excuse. Head injury? That's a good one, believable too. But would Stone accept it?

Double fuck.

A loud clank sounded and the alarm abruptly silenced. The car chugged sluggishly back into motion with a jerk. I stared in wide-eyed horror at the doors. Mouth open and working soundlessly in abject terror. What just happened here? The doors flew open and a large mass loomed in the doorway. I moved sideways against the elevator handrail, slowly slinking away, eyes never leaving his. I pay attention to 'Animal Planet'. I know the rules for predators.

"How did you…?" I stuttered.

He lifted a single hand. A couple of red and black wires still dangled below it. I followed the ends to the source: the elevator's electrical wall panel. I swallowed my tongue.

"Multi-talented," he growled as he dropped the wires and backed me into the car wall, looped a hand behind my head and into my hair. He surprised me with the unexpected action. Anger I anticipated, not…this. He dipped his head so his lips were mere inches from mine, a devilish glint in his eyes.

"I can also multi-task."

With that be pulled me into a heart-stopping kiss. He used his tongue to do things to me most church going folk knew nothing about, trust me, I should know. He pulled slowly away, nibbling at the corner of my mouth, down the sensitive curve of my jaw, and nipped a trail of molten heat down the slope of my now arched neck. I shuddered with a breathless sigh. This was nice, but how was this…? That was when his palm made contact with my collarbone; a single callused finger trailing slowly downward toward more promised land. I heard a large clanking sound and I suddenly couldn't breathe. My chest heaved. Since Stone was practically eye level with my breasts he definitely noted my involuntary reaction. He must have taken it for encouragement, because he was now palming my right breast tracing my peaked nipple through the thin fabric of my halter-top with one glorious thumb. I moaned at the sensations that shivered through my belly down to a place that hadn't been given much attention for months now. That same traitorous entity was now standing up and begging for attention like a yappy Yorkshire terrier. It _had _been a long time…

Stone made his way back up to my mouth with his, being very attentive along the way. All the while his hand never once missed a single stoke at my breast and my hardened nipples could attest to that first hand, no pun intended. His second kiss blew the first away on technical merit alone. I was still panting, eyes closed in ecstasy, and head slouched back against the wall when he pulled back. The gravitational pull of his body was only slightly lessened with the distance. I felt his heated gaze on me even through my reclining eyelids. He leaned his lips against my ear to whisper and I felt his hot breath slither down my neck in a moist cloud of desire.

"Maybe next time you'll remember to never, _ever _walk away from me…"

My eyes flew open with an outraged gasp and I shoved him away violently. He stumbled back with a chuckle. I glared at him as I balled up a fist and punched him in the well developed chest. Ouch. Damn pectoral muscles. I shook my hand out at the wrist and deepened my scowl further.

"You pig!" I snarled and hit him a second time for good measure. It was effective as swatting a fly with chopsticks. He leaned back and gave me a though once over from head to toe with those grey eyes of his. I felt the blush rise in my cheeks at his detailed inspection and I became even more mortified. I opened my mouth to yell at him but was silenced by his overgrown paw suddenly covering my lips. He bent over and picked up something and held it out to me as an offering. I followed the movement and…

"Oh Rex, baby. I'm so sorry!" Apparently I had dropped his cage during the red shoe diary moment. Jesus, could I be a worse hamster mommy? I scooped up the cage to eyelevel and studied his furry face lolling haphazardly out of the soup can. I swear he looked green and his eyes bulged. Yup, definitely seasick.

"I promise to get you a Tasty Pastry, little guy, for the trouble. How's that sound?" Rex promptly got sick and scurried back in his can with only his two back feet sticking out. Reminded me of some monster hangovers I'd had in the past. Guess, I shouldn't have mentioned the donut so soon, huh? I walked out of the elevator, cooing at him the entire way through the parking lot. I opened the Mercedes door and gently settled him inside on the back seat pulling my leather jacket from the front to cover his cage. No one deserved to be stared at during a hangover. It was never pretty. I felt Stone's hand at my lower back and whirled around, startled. I met his eyes and felt a familiar shiver tumbled though my belly at his touch. I swallowed and met his eyes warily. He leaned close, eyes blazing with feral intensity before chuckling and slowly inching the duffel strap down my arm to the ground. I never knew luggage could be so erotic.

'Just thought you'd like a hand with that." He winked at me as he flung the strap over his shoulder, walked to the rear of the car and opened the trunk to stow my luggage.

"I think we should grab Brown's stuff, too, while we are at it, Jersey. " Stone's voice wafted over the trunk lid to me. I shook off the stupor and groaned. Yeah, Bobby might be pissed if it got stolen. It was a miracle it hadn't so far.

"What do you want to do about the clothes?" he continued as he reached my side.

There was definitely laughter in his voice when he asked. I glanced at the clothes now flapping in the late afternoon breeze. The knots I had used to tie them together into a neat multicolored rope to the fire escape railing had held up well under the windy conditions. A pair of Boxers with the word "BROWN" emblazoned in bold eight inch black block letters on the seat demonstrated this by snapping in the air currents. The whole spectacle might not have been too noticeable if the rose silk boxers weren't covered in small jovial images of Whiney the Pooh eating out of a honey pot. I sighed. I guess I had yet another future act of vengeance to be on the look out for…

"Leave them; he can come get them himself." I stated matter-of-factly.

Stone chuckled as he raised the cardboard box to his shoulder and carried it to the trunk with the rest of the baggage, effectively hiding himself from my vision as he arranged the load. I turned to slump my hormonally flushed forehead on the roof of the car while he couldn't see me. Get a grip, Stephanie! What the hell were you thinking? Hmm, I don't think I was thinking, and that seems to always be at the root of all my problems. The metal of the roof was cool against my skin. I shivered in reaction which made me think of the shivering I did after the kiss, which lead me to think of Stone's lips on mine and his hand on my… Ugh, I groaned involuntarily. Damn hormonal circular thinking! This was getting me nowhere. Gotta find a way to deal with this. Avoidance? Tempting but he won't let me… Anger? Yes, that would work. I should be angry with him, right? I whacked my head a few times softly against the metal. How come I wasn't angry with him? Shit. Find the anger, find the anger. Okay, Stone was just messing with me. He was jerking my chain. He was applying pressure at my weakest spot: my hormones. Just like someone else I knew. There! There is that trusty self righteous anger.

I jerked back to open the Mercedes door and found Stone staring at me across the roof, chin propped up on crossed arms, wearing a grin the size of Texas. I growled as I threw my body in the passenger seat and slammed the door. He chuckled softly as he joined me. I know my visage must have darkened visibly then. He continued to chuckle as he pulled out of the parking lot and made a left toward the Burg. I growled and whipped my head around to shoot him with my death ray.

"Now here's my threat to you, Stone. Don't ever touch me like that again or you will pull back a bloody stump, so help me! I don't like mental games. I didn't like them when Ra…" Shit! "…when others have done it and I don't like you taking advantage of my giving nature. Furthermore I don't like the idea of you touching me that way as 'punishment.' So back off! Capice?"

I turned back around, facing front and fumed silently. Where did this guy get the nerve, the unmitigated gall to…?

"I'm sorry."

I froze mid mental rant and turned to Stone. His jaw was clenched tightly; his eyes studiously on the road, never wavering. A pulse ticked in his jaw but other than that I couldn't see a speck of emotion displayed on his face.

"Huh? Uh, oh. Sure, okay." Not very convincing in my righteous indignation, now was I? I fiddled with the tie at the waist of my leather pants, suddenly out of my depth and not sure what to do about it. It's not like people apologize to me on a regular basis or anything. A hand reached over and stilled the motion of mine in my lap. I followed it to its handsome owner. His face was still blank, but his is eyes… his eyes were full of something I wasn't sure I wanted to name.

"I meant it, Jersey. I'm sorry. Forgive me?" He asked in earnest and stroked the back of my hand with his. I blinked in bewilderment and then gave him a miniscule nod in response. I felt his hand squeeze mine before resuming the hypnotic stroking motion. The ride to my parents' house that followed was the quietest one I had ever experienced as a bounty hunter…but definitely not the most uneventful.

**Fifteen Minutes Later…**

We pulled into the curb in front of the familiar row house with a squeal of tires. I saw movement at the front window behind ruffled curtains and I inwardly cursed. There were almost certainly Hail Mary's being muttered and serious genuflecting going on in there. It was probably too much to expect that my mother hadn't heard anything about my recent car debacle. The phone mostly likely had been doing the rumba since I left the police station. One thing you can say for the Burg, the speed of gossip was more reliable than the cable reception. Just ask my Dad.

I rubbed my temple in circular motions and waited for the eye tick to subside before addressing Stone. He was watching me with animation evident on his face.

"Okay. Here are the rules for entry into the _Twilight Zone_: Stick to simple answers when asked a question. Hell, being monosyllabic is highly encouraged. Don't give them any details about the accident and remember this one important word: denial, denial, denial. Got it?" I arched at him.

He chuckled at me and nodded as we exited the car. We started to unload the bags from the trunk after I grabbed Rex. My eyes were morbidly drawn back to the front window as I picked up a bag and turned towards the house. I don't know what I was expecting. The shadowy outline of the Bates Motel figure perhaps? I suddenly could kill for a Tums.

"Oh, come on, Jersey. It can't be as bad as all that!" Stone chortled as he lifted his three bags and pushed me towards the front stoop.

"You have no idea…" I muttered under my breath. I grabbed the door handle. Locked. Shit, this was worse than I thought. They never locked the door. The last time was after I was snatched by Abruzi's goons and branded like cattle. I knocked on the door frame and felt the eye twitch resume full throttle. As I heard footsteps loom closer to the door I turned to look at Stone over my shoulder.

"Oh, and don't get within three feet of my Grandma; Roman fingers." Heh heh. Let him wonder what that meant. Now both of us could be uneasy, I mused as I slapped a stupid grin on to face my mother's wrath.

**To be continued in chapter 28…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit a.k.a. Christine**

Note: STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON-PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

this is courtesy of Lynn and Karey's prompting. Thanks to Mo and all the ladies for being patient with me. To Marcie for making me fear and yet laugh at..Err..WITH her. And VERY special thanks to Ellie and her rapier whip err I mean wit. He heh.. She has 'branded" my bottom with her mark. No, not that. Dirty girls. lol hope you ladies enjoy. C.)

**Chapter 28**

_"Oh, come on, Jersey. It can't be as bad as all that!" Stone chortled as he lifted his three bags and pushed me towards the front stoop._

_"You have no idea…" I muttered under my breath. I grabbed the door handle. Locked. Shit, this was worse than I thought. They never locked the door. The last time was after I was snatched by Abruzi's goons and branded like cattle. I knocked on the doorframe and felt the eye twitch resume full throttle. As I heard footsteps loom closer to the door I turned to look at Stone over my shoulder._

_"Oh, and don't get within three feet of my Grandma; Roman fingers." Heh heh. Let him wonder what that meant. Now both of us could be uneasy, I mused as I slapped a stupid grin on to face my mother's wrath._

I swore as the front door opened. It creaked ominously and thunder cracked in the distance. Ominous portent? Or too many burritos yesterday coupled with an overactive imagination?

I walked inside the foyer with Stone close on my heels. I maintained eye contact with my mother; my very silent mother. This was the very same woman who had never hesitated to withhold a judgmental word in the entirety of my thirty-odd-year lifespan. Today was a red-letter day, ladies and gents.

Once inside I realized Mom still held the door wide open with a thousand yard stare. I cleared my throat to jolt her back into action. As she shut it absentmindedly she appeared to study me, the perpetually bad daughter. Then she looked at the behemoth of masculinity I brought into her home and she paled.

I had followed all the action like a tennis spectator. By the time my mother was back to my face I realized she had noted the suitcases and hamster cage and had moved on to the productive activity of trembling and wringing her hands. I had silently counted as high as one hundred forty-seven when I realized she really wasn't going to say anything at all.

"Uh, Mom? Are you okay?"

In response she scurried into the kitchen, past the open ironing board and basket of laundry, still manhandling herself. I blinked twice like Bambi. It was then that I heard the telltale clink of tumbler against cooking sherry bottle. Oh, shit. Mom hadn't done that since Val had turned up pregnant with Kloughn spawn.

"Is your mother drinking in there, Jersey?" Stone inquired with a quirked eyebrow.

Grandma Mazur, a vision in pink velour sweat suit with the word 'juicy' emblazoned on the butt and purple jogging shoes, appeared out of nowhere and beat me to the punch.

"Don't mind her," she explained. "Ellen has been grouchy all day. I think it's the 'Change.' Every day you ignore the signs it just gets worse."

"Hi Grandma. Does…um, that is…uh…did anyone call…"I stuttered lamely.

"Yes, she heard about it already. Did you really set that criminal on fire, like Mrs. Giancatti said? She told us he went up like a burnt marshmallow. Is that true? Who-boy! Wait 'til the girls at Clara's hear about this one: my granddaughter, the human torch."

Grandma Mazur shook her head in disbelief, which evidently amused Stone. His shoulders were shaking, I suspected with silent laughter. I glared at him. All that activity must have finally made Grandma take notice of the new specimen of masculinity before her.

"And who's this hunk, Stephanie? My, oh my, you have a lot of muscles, young man. Dear me, you are lumpy all over. I wonder? Do they do all the way down?" Grandma uttered with a 'cat that ate the canary' grin pasted on.

Stone's laughter abruptly died.

Ha! Now he was gonna get it. Retribution, thy name is grandmother.

"This is Stone, Grandma. He's my coworker from Rangeman."

"Oh, he works for that Negro bounty hunter with the beatnik hair. You remember, Stephanie, the one with the nice package."

Stone burst into audible chuckles.

The laughter halted once again as Grandma Mazur reached out and touched Stone. Seeing that she was five-foot nothing and Stone was well over six foot eight, the highest she could reach was about waist level. Her hands made it as far up as his belt buckle; well, just below it actually.

"Hmm. Not that you have to worry about in that department either, Sonny. That's quite the gun you're packing there. Maybe you'd like to accompany me upstairs so we can compare weaponry. Mine is in my lingerie drawer."

Now it was my turn to laugh. That is until I heard the distinct sound of glass breaking in the kitchen. My mother rushed into the room, red faced, to find me still recovering from laughter and Grandma pulling Stone towards the stairs by his belt buckle with a startled expression on his face.

"Mother! Leave that boy alone!" Mom said as she peeled Grandma Mazur off Stone. Once freed he backed warily away to stand behind me.

"You never let me have any fun, Ellen," my grandma whined with a snort.

They proceeded to argue about that fact until Mom won by telling Grandma she would abscond with her 'secret' liquor stash in her bedroom closet if she didn't behave. That and the liquor store would be notified of her new status as a non-drinker; so no more late night deliveries to the back door. Grandma retired to the living room to indubitably annoy my father in some manner or another.

"I apologize for my mother's behavior, Mr. Stone. Please excuse her." My mother switched to a stage whisper. "She's a bit…different now in recent years."

"I heard that Ellen! I am not crazy. I can show you crazy," Grandma Mazur's voice floated in from the next room. I swear I heard my father mumble the words 'too late' under his breath. I exchanged a look with Stone as if to say 'I told you so.'

"That's perfectly all right, Mrs. Plum. I understand completely. My Nana Winston, God bless her soul, was the very same way: wonderful woman but a bit eccentric. And please call me Sean-Paul. My full name is Sean-Paul Tyler. I am so happy to finally meet the woman who is responsible for Stephanie's beauty," Stone flirted as he bent over my mother's now outstretched hand and placed a courtly kiss upon it.

My jaw dropped so far open I could have caught flies in it. No way my mother, the human bullshit detector, would buy this crock o'…

"Why, thank you Mr. Tyler!" My mother gushed and blushed prettily. It made her look ten years younger, almost girlish actually.

"I'm so happy to see that Stephanie is acquainted with such a gentleman. If only she could find someone as well-mannered as you to marry."

"Mom!" Now it was my turn to excuse my mother. "Sorry, Stone. She's a bit obsessed with nuptials since my sister got engaged."

"Nonsense, Stephanie! You know you have had such bad taste in men. Why, just look at that ex-husband of yours, Dickie. And Joe, while recently improved, was a bit too wild mannered for my tastes. Those Morellis are…"

"Sex fiends," Grandma finished from the next room.

My mother blushed but she didn't disagree. That's it; I better stop this while I could before…

I blinked, finally realizing that Stone had given my mother a name I had never heard before. What the hell?

"Well, speaking of relationships, I have been trying to get your daughter to agree to accompany me to an evening of dinner and dancing for weeks now. So far I have been unsuccessful." Stone managed to look sufficiently crestfallen at this horrible outcome and it had the desired effect.

"Well, I never! I'm sure Stephanie just didn't realize what you were asking. Isn't that right, Stephanie?"

When I tried to respond to that question my mother cut me off.

"I'm sure she would be delighted to be escorted by such a polite young man. Tell me Mr. Tyler, do you like Italian? You should take Stephanie to Rossini's. It has delightful food, for a restaurant anyway. Although if you are looking for a good home cooked meal you should stay for dinner this evening. We always have room at the table for Stephanie's new boyfriend."

Christ Almighty! At this rate she would have us married off with twins on the way by the end of the evening. I had to nip this one in the bud right now.

"Mom, I am not…"

She turned a look on me that would turn milk sour. For those of you that don't speak spoiled dairy, let me translate. The look said 'if you ever want cake in this house again you will go out with him!' Shit. I had lost the battle before it had even begun. I resigned myself to this fate with a groan and narrowed my eyes on Stone. He smirked at me from behind the relative safety of my mother.

"Now that that's settled, Mrs. Plum, would you mind taking me on a tour of your lovely home? Did you decorate this all yourself? It is really quite impressive…" Stone rambled.

I kept waiting for the hot air he expelled to lift him off the ground. He looped my mother's arm through his and escorted her out of the room. I caught the covert wink in my direction as they departed. They were chatting away merrily, building that wonderful rapport that future-in-laws only aspired to in fairy tales. Dear God, the horror.

"Is it safe?" a disembodied voice whispered.

"Huh? Oh, sure, Grandma, she went in the kitchen with Stone," I finally turned toward her and realized she was now standing next to me holding a red box in her hand. She had deposited it into mine before I could react.

"Here, you look like you'll need these. I've been saving them for a special occasion, but I think you'll find a use for them before I will. My date with Milty Ranston isn't until Wednesday."

I opened my palm and read the box: 'extra large with reservoir tip, ribbed for her pleasure.' Oh my God. Why me?

I shoved the unclean thing back at her, trying to hold down my lunch. The thought of Grandma Mazur with the local pharmacist… I shuddered.

"No! Err, that is I'm not seeing anyone right now, Grandma. Thanks anyway."

"Oh, I thought you and that stallion were…"

"No, we are not."

"Oh. That's a shame. I think it's a mistake to let such a big fellow go, dear. Oh well, just leave him to me. Maybe I should go put on that special underwear I bought with the rhinestone and strings. Think he'd like that? I'll just pop upstairs…"

It was like watching a train derail. This had to stop.

"Uh, Grandma, is my room still empty?"

She looked at my suitcases and smiled.

"I knew it. You burnt down your apartment, didn't you? "

"Oh course not. They are just…renovating my bathroom finally. I need somewhere to stay until it's finished."

No way was I telling my grandma I was evicted for suspicion of solicitation. She'd want me to put her to work.

I hauled Rex and my bags upstairs to my old room. As I set the last one on the bed, I sighed. I looked around the room slowly. Standing here surrounded by my childhood memorabilia I felt safe. It was nice to know that no one could take this from me at least.

Grandma Mazur came in soon after and offered to help me unpack. I declined politely. Past experience had taught me that the more risqué items of my unmentionables had a tendency to disappear when she helped me put things away. I refused to spend any time thinking about to where. Denial is the cornerstone of a healthy psyche.

Then it was off to the living room for an exciting evening of _The Weather Channel_ with Dad and Grandma until dinner. 'These are the days of our lives.' It was no surprise that I was actually grateful to see my mother's figure arrive through the doorway.

"Stephanie, could you please set the table for dinner?" She smiled pleasantly as she said it too, total _Stepford_ Mom.

Then she turned and left the room, I assume to return to cooking. As I proceeded to set the table with the company china I realized that Stone was following right behind me placing the silverware. I laid the last plate and twirled around.

"How did you do it? She never said one word about… the accident. I can't figure out what's going on here. Since the only thing different about this latest incident is that you were here to help me ride the tide…" I shook my head utterly flabbergasted as how to end that thought.

Stone pulled out a dining chair and sat down. Then he pulled me down by the waist into his lap so I sat sideways across his thighs. He tucked some hair behind my ear and smiled.

"Jersey, you just have to know how to spin something. Your mother worries about you and wants you happy. I just distracted her by giving her a little peace of mind. She just wants you find someone and fulfill those wishes. That's all she truly desires, you know; for you to be happy and safe."

"But it's not honest. I can't be what she wants me to be. It's just not in me. I'll never quit my job. I like the hours too much. Also it's not right to make her think I will settle down and have two point five kids with the whole white picket fence scenario. I don't know if I ever will be ready for that. Hell, it's not like I'm even dating anyone right now. It's mean to lie to her like that."

"What if it isn't a lie?" he asked solemnly.

"W-what do you mean?" I uttered in confusion. I should have known what was coming next from his sudden smile.

"Well, since we've been dating for so long now, perhaps it's time we take this to the next level. Should we set a date? Your grandmother could be your maid of honor. I bet she'd throw on hell of a bachelorette party."

"You are insane. That reminds me; I'm mad at you, mister. I can't believe you got my mother to force me to go on a date with you," I said as I tried to push off him. He grabbed my wrist before I got very far and placed a little kiss on the pulse there.

"I would you know. Marry you, that is." His solemn gray eyes never wavered from my face once in the full minute it took for me to get my breath back.

"Yeah right," I snorted suddenly uneasy with the conversation and squirmed in his lap. "I bet you say that to all the girls to guarantee a little action, huh?"

"No, I meant it. I have never said those words to any woman before in my life. I know it's too soon, but some day…"

"You. Are. Crazy." I punctuated each whispered word with a poke at his chest.

"Maybe, but I'm not legally certifiable yet, so the offer is still good in case you ever change your mind," he whispered before fluttering a quick kiss across my lips. I couldn't help it. I leaned into his chest and responded. The world dropped away and I felt a tingling in my thighs as I deepened the encore kiss. I moaned and tried to smother the sound against his lips so no one would hear. Stone reached down between our bodies and slowly drew out his…cell phone? What the…?

Stone grinned as he answered it. He must have realized that I didn't know the phone on his belt had been silently vibrating. I blushed and pushed out of his lap. Oh lord, how stupid of me. What the hell was I doing here? And in my parents house, too. How after school special. Ugh, damn those Mazur hormones.

I stood in the corner and rubbed my arms, trying to figure out to whom Stone was speaking. Have you ever tried to eavesdrop on a one-sided phone conversation? Yeah, well, so you know why I didn't learn very much except for the fact that Stone seemed concerned when he hung up. And I got that much from his frown.

"Where's the television?" was the first thing out of his mouth. All in all, not exactly what I was expecting after our previous conversation. I stood dumbfounded as he grabbed my arm and led me from the room.

**To be continued in chapter 29…**


	9. CEotCK Chapter 29 thru 32

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; std disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts , or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

A special nod to Mo for her infinite patience with me, to Ellie and Marcie for sabotaging all of the ill-gotten villainous gains and plots that I have ever devised, to the vigilant Jeri (or should that be vigilante?), to the absent Lynn and to my long lost pally, Pamie.Where did you go, girlie?.C.)

**Chapter 29**

_I stood in the corner and rubbed my arms, trying to figure out to whom Stone was speaking. Have you ever tried to eavesdrop on a one-sided phone conversation? Yeah, well, so you know why I didn't learn very much except for the fact that Stone seemed concerned when he hung up. And I got that much from his frown._

_"Where's the television?" was the first thing out of his mouth. All in all, not exactly what I was expecting after our previous conversation. I stood dumbfounded as he grabbed my arm and led me from the room_

"In the living room, but what…"I trailed off when I saw what he did next.

As soon as we entered the room, Stone spotted the TV remote in my dad's lap. He reached behind the newspaper my father had shielded himself with and picked up the remote.

"Pardon me, Mr. Plum."

Dad blinked as he pulled the newspaper down into his now empty lap. His brow was knotted up in confusion and then irritation. It was the most animation I had seen in him since my mother dropped the Thanksgiving turkey on the kitchen floor in '89.

The television screen lit up with images of an anchor newsperson prattling about a building fire in Hamilton Township. It wasn't until they showed the structure that I realized what had happened.

There, in vivid Technicolor, was my apartment building. _My apartment was on fire_. All my worldly belongings, gone. All of it up in flames. What were the odds that my apartment would burn down the very day I was served with an eviction notice? Don't answer that.

And then just when I thought it couldn't possibly get much worse, it did.

According to Tom Daily (how original) on Channel 12, apparently the flames originated on the second floor. Fire officials onsite were not commenting as to the exact nature of the blaze other than that it appeared to arson.

Oh sweet lord, please don't let him say a word about me. For all that's holy, please don't let him mention my name.

"…an anonymous source states the residence belonged to a recently evicted tenant, Stephanie 'Bombshell' Plum, a local bounty hunter. As some may recall, Ms. Plum has had numerous firebombing incidents at this residence in the past. Officials refuse to comment on this 'tenuous connection.' At this time no deaths have been attributed to the blaze and only minor injuries have been reported..."

I stood there in shock, jaw wagging in the breeze.

"Hot damn! Isn't that your apartment, Stephanie?" Grandma Mazur practically bounced around the room as she said it.

Stone and I exchanged a look.

"Hey! Don't look at me. I've been with you all afternoon. Well, the important parts anyway. You don't think that the cops will think that I had anything to do with this, do you?"

Stone just raised an eloquent eyebrow.

"So, who called you?" I sighed.

"Tank. He wants us to get back to the office A.S.A.P. He said he'd explain it all then," Stone bit the words off, shooting a meaningful look at my family.

Okay, obviously this was something we couldn't discuss here.

"Go get your stuff, all of it. We are leaving."

"What? I don't think so. I'm staying here. For your information this isn't the first time my apartment has burned down, buster."

Stone's mouth twitched at that comment.

In the background I heard my mother mumbling under her breath about the lack of fires and evictions at Carol Delgado's daughter's house. And then there was an unmistakable thump. We all turned around and looked. Mom laid spread-eagle on the floor, passed out and dead to the world. I ignored her.

"Jersey, trust me, we won't be coming back here later. Please, just trust me this time okay? I'll dish later." Stone had leaned into my ear to whisper the information to me so no one else would hear. Or so we thought.

"Now wait just one minute, Mister…whoever-you-are! If my daughter said she doesn't want to go, then she's not going anywhere with you!"

Great the one time Dad wakes up to participate in my life and I don't need the support.

"It's fine, Dad. I promise. Stone is my… friend," I consoled him and tried to smile to reinforce my words. It was a pitiful effort.

"A good friend Mr. Plum," Stone said and stuck out his had to shake my father's hand. Dad brushed it aside and the next thing I knew Stone and my father deep in argumentation. After I concluded they weren't going to exchange blows, I took the opportunity to sneak out and pack. By the time I came back downstairs everyone was gone except for my grandma. She must have seen the blatant questions on my face.

"Your mother is being melodramatic and is upstairs 'resting.' The other two are out front smoking those awful stogies. Your grandfather loved those things, too. I never saw the appeal. I just think they smell like rotten tuna and who wants to smoke a stinky fish? Not me, no siree."

With that she gave me a peck on the cheek, shoved something in my purse and went upstairs; probably to take a nip at her whiskey, (for medicinal purposes only of course).

I stumbled out the door kicking one of my bags and hauling the rest over my shoulders. Poor Rex probably thought he was at sea on the S.S. Upchuck again.

As I approached my father and Stone, I blinked. My dad was laughing. Hell, they both were laughing. And they were slapping each other on the back as they did it. This must be one of those weird male-bonding rituals I always heard about. Funny, I had never seen my dad respond to any guy I brought home like this before. Not even the Dick as I recall. Although, how anyone could want to bond with that jackass was beyond me. Maybe one day I ask Joyce how she stomached it. Or I'll just stun gun the slut and run. Whichever option seemed more fun for all involved.

"A little help here, please," I grunted, happy to break up this _Twilight Zone_ moment.

They both scrambled up the stairs and within minutes the Mercedes was packed. I noticed as I buckled Rex into the backseat (you can't be too careful), that my father was whispering to Stone. Okay, now this was just downright bizarre. Dad smiled shook Stone's hand and then he came around to my side as Stone got in the car.

"He's a keeper, Pumpkin. Be careful, okay?" With that Dad hugged me gruffly and went back inside the house.

Jesus. I felt like Dorothy in the _Wizard of Oz_. I got in the car and studied Stone. What was it that everyone else was seeing that I wasn't?

"Question, Jersey?" Stone twinkled merrily as he started the engine and drove away. I silently watched my childhood home get smaller, disappearing into the distance in the side mirror and just shook my head.

It wasn't until we pulled through the Rangeman compound gates that I realized we hadn't spoken a single word during the entirety of the ride over. Shit, I had wanted to grill Stone a bit about the fire. He seemed to know more about it than I did.

"So someone bombed my apartment didn't they?"

Stone's mouth twitched.

"You are swift today, Jersey. What gave it away?"

"Ha-ha. You are a laugh riot, Sarcastro. So Tank called you and told you…?" I trailed off waiting for him to fill in the blank.

And he did. He told me that Rangeman underground contacts had let Tank know about the explosion immediately since it involved a Rangeman staff member. (I was staff? News to me. And here I thought I was the comic relief.) The arson report (that had yet to be filed officially), would describe a possible Molotov cocktail as the igniter of the blaze in my apartment. That fact kind of frightened me. Not the firebomb part, but the fact that Tank could get that kind of sensitive information so quickly. Remind me never to piss him off. I had a feeling my credit rating wouldn't survive. Not that I needed help in that department. Damn that Macy's.

"Okay, I get it. Someone doesn't like me. Big surprise. But what I don't get is why Tank called _you_ to ask me to come back to the compound? Why not just call my parents' number? That would be the logical assumption." I narrowed my eyes at him in suspicion.

He had the decency to look guilty.

"Because I told them you were with me and I would take care of you. I had called to check in with headquarters on my way over to the police station to pick you up. Hey, don't look at me like that. Tank ordered me to take you to see him immediately. I told him to get bent and hung up. Then he called back several more times. Or I should say I assumed it was him calling. I didn't pick up to check and now it looks like I'm paying for it," Stone said as he parked and motioned with his head, indicating the large security detail waiting for us in the parking garage.

Uh-oh. I guessed Stone must have pissed Tank off a lot with that defiant comment and subsequent dismissal. As we got out of the car the guards walked over and relieved us of our weaponry. I didn't know a single soul. None of this was an encouraging sign. As we were escorted to the elevators I saw Hector approach. He looked pensive. That is until he saw my bruised face, and then he most definitely frowned.

Double Uh-oh.

Hector boarded the elevator and we all crammed in. When we reached the third floor the doors opened and Hector motioned to two of the faceless goons to exit with Stone in tow. When I tried to exit to stop them, Hector just shook his head mournfully and pulled me back on the car. I apologized to Stone with my eyes as the elevator doors slammed shut. Needless to say, the remaining ride was tense. Hector had never removed his hand from my arm and he used it to guide me when we exited the elevator at the sixth floor. I tried everything short of spitting and bodily harm to get across to Hector how upset I was with him for manhandling me in such a manner.

And he ignored me.

By time we reached the comm. control room I had given up all pretense of civility. I was practically dragging my feet. Why did they cart Stone off anyway? Why did they search us both for weapons? What the hell is going on around here? Damned if I knew, but I swore on all that was holy I was gonna find out soon or someone would pay dearly.

I was further surprised when our security escort stood guard outside the room as Hector led me to a chair in the empty room and proceeded to handcuff me to it. The chair was a steel ladder back monstrosity and appeared to be riveted into the concrete of the floor. Why do I think for some reason that I wasn't the first guest entertained here?

"What the hell do you think you are doing, Hector?" I gasped as I tested my bonds.

"I'm sorry, Steph. It has to be this way," he stated sadly as he turned and walked to the door. I heard a distinct locking sound after it shut.

"Uh, excuse me! What the hell is going on here?" I shouted to the empty room. The words echoed off the concrete walls. I knew someone was watching me. Someone out there could hear me, dammit and I wanted answers.

"If you think this is funny guys, think again! I'm gonna beat you, Bobby, when I get my hands on you. And you too, Lester! Tell your fucking boss he better come unlock me now! You hear me, Tank? I'll beat you all senseless with the very shoe I'm wearing now."

Silence.

Okay this wasn't working.

Before I could think up another tactic, the lights dimmed and a closed circuit monitor popped on. I watched in open curiosity.

On the screen a video flashed of Stone and me standing in my parking lot of my apartment building. It looked like it was filmed this very afternoon when he was leaning to pull the luggage off my shoulder and whispering to me about 'helping.' Okay, why were they showing me this?

Then the images flashed to Stone alone in his bedroom. He was wearing different clothes talking on a cell phone. All of a sudden a woman walked out of the bathroom and Stone hung up the phone. Okay I remember this now. This was surveillance footage from two weeks ago.

"Still not understanding what you are getting at guys," I told the walls.

The footage jumped again, this time to a darkened room. I assumed it was nighttime from the way the security lights were illuminated. Bobby had told me once they only did that night when the main electrical grid was powered down in the evenings. I concluded I was viewing an image of the very comm. room I was sitting in. A shadow stirred in the murky twilight and a figure could be barely made out. The person appeared to be turning on a computer screen. After an undetermined period of time, the figure leaned down and loaded what looked like a disk into the hard drive. As the person leaned back the blue luminance of the computer screen caught on soft features.

A woman?

Her curly hair quickly shifted and covered her face from any further inspection. Wait a minute? What Rangeman employee has curly hair?

Oh, shit. I don't like this.

The screen changed yet again. Here was a scene of Stone and me removing all my clothes a la suitcase from my apartment before the bombing.

The monitor flickered once again. This time it showed a man and woman embracing in an elevator. 'Embracing' was a nice way of saying having a grope fest and rounding second base. Crap. This afternoon's shenanigans with Stone were caught on celluloid. As if everything else wasn't perplexing enough, now they were adding mortification to the emotional bag.

All that was forgotten with the sight of the last image on the monitor.

There in grainy visual glory was a man and woman in Rangeman parking garage. And I must say they very much resembled myself and Stone smuggling what looked like manila files and some type of electronics into a duffle bag. A duffle bag that looked very similar to the one I got at Macy's. Holy, shit. That never happened. Did it? I don't think I recall that. This was fucked up!

A bowling ball dropped into my stomach at the sight. I may be slow, but I'm not stupid. Can you believe it? I was being set up here to take a fall. Someone was trying to pin the recent computer espionage on me! Oh, and Stone too. But I was pretty much blown away but the implication of myself as a sophisticated computer hacker. Ha! Me, a criminal mastermind? Don't make me laugh…or in this case cry.

I blinked back tears while waiting for the next images. I didn't have to wait long. Though it did only serve to confuse me more.

Stone was shown exchanging the duffle bag from earlier with a third party in what looked like a deserted parking lot. The person (I say person because you couldn't tell if they were make or female) took the bag and disappeared back into the shadows.

Okay, many questions here. Was Stone the guilty party? But if he was, why implicate himself while fingering me? It didn't make sense. So, ergo, we were both being set up. But how did the mystery villain manage it? That was the part I couldn't figure out. Unless I had been sleepwalking, I knew I wasn't the one on that tape doing those horrible things. (And by horrible I meant the information theft and trafficking, not the Stone lust-bust. Although that was probably not good judgment on my part overall, considering how things were going down now.)

I sighed as the television mercifully went blank. The lights went completely out and I was immersed in inky darkness. Could this get anymore James Bond?

**To be continued in chapter 30…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit a.k.a. Christine**

Note; STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

(special thanks to Mo mild mannered editor by day, superb writing maverick by night and to my friend Ellie who came through in a pinch. And no, pat, she didn't pinch me. This time. And forever to my one and only Marcie: the one without whom I would go crazy. Hope you ladies enjoy the 4th of July as much as I will! C.)

**Chapter 30**

**Two hours prior to the Rangeman capture of Stephanie and Stone **

**Interior of an office in an undisclosed location**

In the dimly lit room, shadows clung to the figure sitting in the wing-backed chair as if they were drawn to the very primordial essence of his nature. As if even the darkness recognized the man as its child.

The man leaned forward to prop his elbows on the oversized mahogany desk and steepled his fingers against his mouth. Soon, he thought. Soon. A rap at the door intruded on his internal dialogue.

"Enter," the figure rasped.

The door opened and a bulky brunette man entered, moving towards the desk with a wealth of grace that belied his mammoth size.

"Ah, by your presence can I assume the latest logs are here?" The shadow man inquired with an uplifted brow, successfully intimidating the giant man before him with just that simple gesture.

To an onlooker, the idea that an eyebrow lift could be intimidating might seem ludicrous, but to the brunette man it was an accepted fact. He knew his worth to the man before him, officially known to him and his associates by the ridiculous name of Mr. Smythe Brown. Those who encountered 'Mr. Brown' knew that his more notorious moniker of 'Shadow' was better suited to him than the surname he surely must have affected long ago.

The brunette, who rarely became rattled, gathered his scattered wits and handed the stack of disks over to Brown.

"The latest entries are on the first disk. The footage you requested to be produced is on the second and the last disk contains the spliced material."

"Excellent. Proceed," Shadow intoned blankly.

The brunette knew what to do. They had performed this ritual numerous times over the last few months. He loaded the disk containing the original material into the player that was connected to the closed circuit television system located behind a secret panel in the wall. The brunette cued up the first image. He waited for the request that would inevitably come.

"Sound," the Shadow ordered.

The brunette nodded in earnest and muted the speakers. Every time it was the same dance of rites. He wondered who the subject was, exactly. Not that it mattered, he thought fatalistically. When the Shadow finished with her she would be lucky if she remained sane enough to recall the image of her own mother's face. He might have felt pity for the mystery woman if he had a conscience left in his possession. But that had fallen to the side years ago, a victim of the organization. He waited with a patience born of years of conditioned duty. He was not disappointed.

"Confounding, isn't it, Rudolfo?"

The brunette, Rudolfo, merely nodded his head once in acquiescence having learned long ago a true response was not expected of him. The Shadow didn't appear to notice because he never tore his eyes from the screen to spare Rudolfo a glance.

"Beyond comprehension…" the Shadow whispered and gave Rudolfo the silent dismissal he was accustomed to with a wave of his hand. Rudolfo left the room, barely stirring the air in his wake as he shut the door.

The Shadow paused the image that had been playing and strode across the room until he stood a foot from the screen studying her face. He wondered for the millionth time 'Why her?'

The television images reflected a spectrum of light across the man's face. The illumination was just strong enough to dispel the shadows hanging over him. The dark brown locks hanging over his brow shone and his normally dark eyes were rendered a nondescript range of gray hues.

After several minutes the Shadow returned to his chair to settle in with eager readiness before resuming the action on the screen. A feral smile tipped the corners of his mouth as the brunette woman on the screen turned in the distance, as if she were responding to someone calling her name, her blue eyes twinkling in merriment.

In retrospect, the Shadow realized that Stephanie Plum just might provide him some entertainment after all. He would enjoy breaking her. Not to mention framing and killing the man who, no doubt, was his greatest foe as surely as the earth was round.

He finished viewing all three disks and pushed a button on his intercom. Seconds later Rudolfo reentered.

"Send the splice to Mañoso and his underling along with the text I gave you earlier," the Shadow ordered. "Dismissed."

As Rudolfo exited for the second time he caught the expression on the Shadow's face and resisted the urge to reassuringly place his hand over the gun at his hip.

**Interior of a mansion**

**Somewhere near ****Miami****Florida**

**One hour prior to the Rangeman capture of Stephanie and Stone, a phone call was taking place.**

"You are one secretive bastard, Ric."

"So you keep telling me, Tank," Ranger intoned blankly. "Just follow through with your part of the plan. I don't have to tell you how important it is to keep this quiet, do I? Or have you gotten that soft these last few months?"

"You're the only one involved in this conversation who has changed, asshole. You're completely heartless now."

The wall clock in Tank's office ticked painfully slow before Ranger responded.

"Fine, I'm heartless. It still doesn't affect the outcome of this situation."

"I know she would never do this to me," Tank ground out.

"To you, Tank?" Ranger inquired softly.

Ranger paused, letting seconds stretch out into a cloud of tension thick enough to slice.

"She wouldn't do this to _you_? Funny, I thought I was the one getting screwed over here. Besides I think I am a great judge of what Stephanie is capable of. Be careful or you are going to get caught in the same trap I did there, buddy."

"She's not a burden to be escaped, Ric. Maybe she was in your eyes, but not mine. I refuse to put up with you saying that about the woman I…"

Ranger's body went completely still with the exception of his churning stomach.

"The woman you what, Tank?"

"Never mind. It's nothing I want to discuss with you. That's something I would tell my best buddy since basic; not the cold, soulless being you've become."

"Enough, Tank. Just complete your part in this mission and you won't ever have to put up with my psychotically emotionless ways again. Understood?

"Yes, completely understood," Tank bit off. "And just for the record, I'm counting the days until I can tell you to fuck off."

Ranger gave a dismissive grunt and hung up the phone.

When had things become so unsalvageable with Tank? Hell, with his whole core team in Trenton? Ranger knew the answer to that question as surely as he knew his own name.

The day Stephanie Plum came into his life.

The one and only woman Ranger had loved since Lejune Brown. Ranger had thought no greater pain could be felt than the pain he experienced when the love of his life, Junie, had died.

Until Stephanie.

Stephanie Plum: the girl who didn't judge him, who accepted him unconditionally, who gave him friendship, loyalty and most of all her trust. Meeting her sparked something in him he thought was long since dead. She made him want to truly live again. Every day was just another day to be with her: another opportunity to see her smile, hear her laugh.

Ranger emitted a shaky breath.

It had nearly killed him when he left all those months ago; to leave her behind while he paid back a debt to an old friend.

Stephanie Plum, the one woman who didn't have to die to destroy him. No, she broke Ranger when she slept with Bobby; the one man who hated him more than anyone else on the face of the planet.

Ranger slumped forward, head resting in his hands and rattled out a sigh. Jesus, what the hell was he going to do now? Things just got ten times more complicated. Contrary to what Tank thought, Ranger knew there was no way Stephanie was capable of such dishonesty. Hell, the woman couldn't fire her own gun without cringing; she was no criminal. She just wasn't capable of the levels of subtly and deviousness necessary for a crime of this caliber. She was about as straight and narrow as they came.

Now Stone on the other hand… that fucker was perfectly capable of screwing any and every person he ever met. He was scum. From the time they first met during a deep cover op Ranger knew it. Ranger had been working for the Colonel's organization full-time then.

Ranger sat back in his chair and covered his eyes with his palms. His headache worsened with the memories that now claimed him.

It had all begun when a splinter black ops group recruited him after his second tour in the Rangers. At first it was just a few jobs that his army commander farmed Ranger out on. Then eleven months later, without quite knowing how it happened, Ranger found himself in a third world hellhole living under an assumed name working for the infamous Colonel. It had gotten to the point where the job was his entire life. Hell, he _was_ the fucking job. Although he loved the adrenaline rush like a two-bit, dime-bag junkie he knew he couldn't go on forever like that. He missed being able to have a name, his own name. He had no idea how to extract himself without being indebted to the organization… to the Colonel. And so he pretended to have the life he wanted.

One year later he was still pretending. And in that time he learned there wasn't much he wouldn't do. He had killed in combat, for country, and in the name of whatever cause the Colonel saw fit. The miniscule amount of jobs that the Colonel turned down went elsewhere. Sometimes they were given to rogue mercs and other times to countries with fewer scruples than the United States.

In fact, one day a new private organization, a very loose affiliate of the government, came into existence because of those rejected jobs. The company had no official name that Ranger was ever privy to. Everyone in his line of work who lived to tell the tale called it 'the Ring.' Perhaps in part due to the extremely adept nature of that organization's operatives.

Ranger moved his hands to the desktop and he picked up the first object that they encountered. He deftly twirled the letter opener in his fingers as a form of subconscious release.

It was on a mission to infiltrate a totalitarian government for intelligence purposes, that Ranger first encountered Stone. Unbeknownst to the Colonel, the Ring had been hired by the US government as a contingency plan to its own efforts. Mind you, this information came utterly too late and the entire operation had been botched. Several foreign dignitaries and officials had to be silenced to keep the fallout to a minimum. Ranger himself discovered the treachery as he witnessed a man take out the palace's whole security force.

Although that wasn't what had disgusted Ranger; it was finding that man, Stone, bent over the body of six year-old girl, his hands still wrapped around her slender throat. Stone had eliminated not just the dictator's security officers, but all of the innocent servants and family members as well. After several such encounters with Stone, one of the Ring's finest operatives, Ranger would have gladly killed Stone himself.

Ranger's left hand started to tingle and he realized the letter opener he had been grasping now bit into his fleshy palm. Blood had trickled down his elbow to the floor below. After tending the wound, Ranger sat back in the chair to try and think of a plan to solve his current problem.

After half an hour passed, he raised his head and stared at the email message on the laptop that started this current fiasco. The computer screen swam before Ranger's eyes. He attributed it to the lack of sleep and not emotional anguish.

He read the missive that had accompanied the file for the millionth time.

**Dear Mr. Manoso,**

**Attached you will find some interesting surveillance footage that crossed my path. Upon viewing it I realized you might be interested to know whose identity your mole carries. Use as you see fit. I ask for nothing in return… at this time.**

**Sincerely,**

** The Watcher**

The words never changed no matter how many times he read them or watched the footage attached. His world was still shattered.

Ranger knew of only one man who could confirm the names of this 'Watcher' and the hacker: the Colonel. Although Ranger recognized that it was a death sentence to request his help, but he knew no other way. He was obviously running out of time if this mystery person was already tightening the springs on his trap.

Ranger prepared to make the necessary arrangements to end his life. He picked up the phone and dialed.

**To be continued in chapter 31…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit a.k.a. Christine**

Note: STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON-PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

C.)

**Chapter 31**

**Meanwhile back in ****Trenton**** Area…**

As I regained consciousness in the now motionless automobile, I came to some painful realizations. I just wasn't entirely certain whether that was due to the emotions involved or the general battered condition of my body.

Number One: I was now a wanted woman. And not in the good way, unless being suspected of arson and computer espionage could be defined as good.

Number Two: I didn't have a home in which to hide or friends and family to turn to for help. They would all rat me out, (unintentionally or not).

Number Three (and maybe the most disturbing): Tank had ordered me captured and interrogated. Ergo Tank didn't trust me. Ranger I could understand since he was a complete head case lately, but Tank? I had to assume he had done so at the behest of Ranger, Mr. Bats-in-the-belfry. My brain wouldn't sanely accept any other explanation.

And Number Four: The only person I could trust now was Stone, the new mysterious yet sensuous man in my complicated world. Could my life be anymore like a daytime soap opera?

I thought back to the events that took place a few hours after the lights had gone out in the comm. room. A strange man with a thick German accent had entered to grill me for what seemed like hours. Apparently my repeated answer of 'I don't know,' which deteriorated into whimpering and obscenities, didn't seem to impress Colonel Klink. Somehow I got that kooky impression when he zapped me unconscious with a stun gun at the conclusion of the 'interview.'

When I next awoke, I blinked through a haze of tears and managed to roll up into a sitting position in my new cell. It hadn't been easy due to the shackles on my wrists and ankles. With my back pressed against the wall for balance, I turned my head slowly and took in my surroundings. I was locked up in a plain, box-like room. It had white linoleum floors, a white concrete ceiling and cinder block walls coated in (you guessed it) white paint. There wasn't a solitary stick of furniture anywhere. It looked like a holding cell for lunatics about whose welfare no one cares. As a reassuring decor, it sucked.

All my attempts to think up an escape plan were fruitless. I wasn't able to free my hands to try to pick the lock (although it wasn't a skill I possessed anyhow). And even if I somehow managed the miracle of disabling the door's security locks, there was no way I would be able to escape the complex unseen with my limited skills. The last time I checked I wasn't a super spy. So unless a propeller shot out of my head a la _Mister Gadget _I was royally screwed.

Needless to say, I was severely pissed off by the time Hector and company entered the cell, dragging a prone Stone and tossing him on the floor next to me. Never once did Hector or the other minion acknowledge my presence or the questions I was screaming at them. Apparently it was a drive-by body dump.

I relayed my thoughts on Hector's behavior to Stone when he regained consciousness a few hours later. Believe it or not, Stone didn't have much to say on a topic for once…or on any other for that matter. We never once discussed the reasons why Tank and company put us in this cell. I know why I didn't; I refused to believe either of us was guilty. Now why he didn't ask me about it, I couldn't fathom. Anyway it worked to my advantage so I didn't complain. I wasn't in the mood to chat about it. Color me stupid, but discussing our currently interchangeable titles of traitor/prisoner was depressing.

I would have asked Stone how he planned on getting us out of here if he had remained conscious for more than five minutes at a time after that. I blamed the newly acquired goose egg on his forehead. I refused to think about the fact that it was probably one of my former friends who gave it to him.

Several semi-silent hours later, the door reopened and our current jailer walked into the room. I stared at his face for a full minute before I started cursing him.

"You son of a…" I snarled.

"Stephanie, you don't understand. This is my job. I have to do what they tell me to," Bobby paused and seemed to take in my battered appearance with a frown. "You know me; you should understand what's going on here."

I snorted at him as he walked towards Stone with a new set of leg shackles.

"You can't really believe that I did this, can you, Bobby?" I whispered.

Bobby's only response was to look toward the fish-eye camera lens situated in the ceiling corner. His face was completely shut down when his eyes returned to mine. I realized in that moment he didn't have any faith in me either. I decided to stop this before he could hurt me further.

"Shut up. Don't bother to answer. I don't want to hear any more crap from you, Brown. I don't know you," I managed to growl around the growing lump in my throat.

Bobby shot me a funny look, like he wanted to say something else, but a sudden blow to the head prevented him. I watched Bobby's limp body slump to the floor. Stunned didn't cover what I felt. I looked from Bobby's unconscious form to the suddenly freed Stone standing over him, the offending fist still clenched.

"What just happened here, Stone?"

Stone didn't reply until he had finished freeing his legs of his bonds and was crouched over my legs, which were still stretched out on the floor.

"Do you want to discuss it now or would you prefer to get the hell out of here before your bulldog friend comes back to check on us?"

"What do you think?" I gulped as I held out my hands for him to unlock my cuffs.

Stone just shook his head and resumed picking the locks on my shackles. Within minutes we had escaped the complex through an air vent that originated in the hallway outside our cell and that had ended in an exterior wall of the building. Don't ask me how Stone even knew the duct system existed or how it was our best route of escape. Or how he seemed to know precisely which turns to make to bring us to the spot we had exited. I suppose a smarter woman might have asked why he seemed to possess this information, why he had memorized an emergency flight route out of the Rangeman complex.

As we ran through the dense woodland surrounding the final fence, I realized I wasn't smart and I didn't seem to give a shit. As long as Stone got me the hell away from Tank and whatever vengeance he was sure to reign down upon me for my alleged treachery, I could live with the IQ drop.

We ran for what seemed like miles through the trees. The pine branches that I had failed to dodge as artfully as Stone before me left me covered in scratches and sap. My legs ached and my lungs burned. My face stung from the surge of blood being pumped through my overworked, out-of-shape body. With each crunch of dry foliage beneath our feet I cringed. I was sure that every dead leaf we encountered would be the one that would give us away to our pursuers.

When I stumbled for the third consecutive time, Stone grabbed my arm and abruptly changed the direction in which we ran. I thought we were now traveling north from the position of the constellations in the night sky above us (Mind you, it was the North Star I was navigating by. It was one of the few I knew).

We scurried through the underbrush for several more minutes before my legs started to shake. I relayed this to Stone who just told me to keep up the pace and conserve my breath.

Huh, I guess that meant to shut up.

As we stumbled into a clearing complete with a late model gray Nissan, I came to a dumfounded standstill. Stone apparently had no such problem and had jump-started the engine before I managed to recover my wits. He lurched out of the car, dragged me to our unlikely get-away vehicle and shoved me inside. The car precariously crept along an off-road mud path before we reached an overgrown gravel road and picked up speed.

When we finally reached a paved roadway fifteen minutes later, I released the breath I suddenly realized I held and turned in the bucket seat to study Stone.

"Can you tell me what the fuck just happened back there?" I stuttered.

He shook his head and sighed. I waited patiently and when it became apparent this was the only answer he intended to give, I growled.

"So can you at least tell me where the fuck we are going?"

"Somewhere safe," he replied.

Thank you Captain Obvious, I thought and snorted loudly. At that moment Stone reached over my lap and I flinched in response. He hesitated before pulling the lever to recline my seat. He settled his hand on my cheek for a silent moment, his eyes unreadable.

"Stay down out of sight and try to get some sleep. We'll be there soon."

"We'll be where soon, Stone?" I asked, refusing to address my previous reaction.

He shook his head with a sigh and returned his hand and eyes to the operation of the car.

That led me back to the present: Groggily blinking my eyes at the sight of a loading dock door closing. I barely had a chance to make out a few details of the interior of the building in which the Nissan now sat before all the street light that streamed inside was extinguished.

Moments later the passenger door opened and I was hauled into strong arms. I barely managed to contain my squeal of surprise. I recognized the rough planes of the chest I was pressed against. Well that and the shiver of arousal that traveled through my traitorous body gave Stone's identity away. It sucked that he could elicit this response from me on a molecular level and didn't even seem to be completely aware of it. Blasted man.

He carried me through the darkness, expertly dodging whatever obstacles were in the abyss. The man must have sonar. Yet another trait he and Ranger shared. Damn, why did I have to think of him? Ugh.

Stone carried me up a set of steep stairs and through two doorways before he set me down on something soft. I concluded from my vast retail upholstery knowledge that it was a sofa. Well that and I had spent many a night couch surfing in college after a bout of binge drinking. Some tactile reasoning skills you never lose.

I blinked rapidly when a lamp turned on a few minutes later, trying to recover my vision after the sudden influx of light. When I did, I realized we appeared to be in a sparsely furnished loft/apartment on the upper level of an abandoned warehouse. The place, although clean, didn't look lived in at all.

This couldn't be one of the Rangeman safe houses because it lacked the simplistically decorated surroundings that normally accompanied such a dwelling. In short, this place just wasn't that tasteful. The loft had more of an air of bachelor about it. It was a combination of malodorous hops meets locker room; the international scent of all college dormitories gone awry. I turned toward Stone to ask him whose place we had just entered.

The question died on my lips and was replaced with a more pertinent one.

"Where the in hell did you manage to find night-vision goggles?" My voice raised an octave in surprise as I watched him remove the aforementioned tool and place it on a rickety end table. He sighed and ruffled his hair in an endearing gesture; it was totally subconscious of course.

"I always have a pair on me," he replied before moving towards a phone on the wall.

I almost asked him where he had managed to hide them but decided it was one of those things that it was best not to ponder. I didn't want to know.

Really, I didn't.

They obviously hadn't been hidden somewhere I could see with the naked eye, and that left some pretty imaginative places.

As I contemplated those possible places with a furrowed brow, Stone placed a phone call to some unknown party. I could only make out the word 'clear' before he hung up. This kept getting more and more curious. I stood up, crossed the room and whacked Stone in the well-developed chest.

"You better start explaining, Mister! Where are we?" I heard a male throat clear behind me and I whirled around to face source of the interruption.

It felt like my world was still spinning when I completed the turn.

"From your expression I can tell you weren't expecting to see me, were you, Stephanie?" the intruder chuckled.

**To be continued in chapter 32…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit a.k.a. Christine**

Note: STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON-PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

Special thanks to Mo and Ellie for the tech and plot support, respectively.C.)

**Chapter 32**

_"You better start explaining, Mister! Where are we?" I heard a male throat clear behind me and I whirled around to face source of the interruption. _

_It felt like my world was still spinning when I completed the turn._

_ "From your expression I can tell you weren't expecting to see me, were you, Stephanie?" the intruder chuckled._

Can you say understatement of the year?

And Bobby's next sentence just infuriated me more.

"By the way, thanks for being so gentle with my melon, Stone," Bobby snorted. "Good to see you were as careful as you said you would be…"

Stone replied before I could.

"Yeah, well, I hate to be trite, but I must say the pleasure was all mine." And then he laughed. He fucking laughed! Ugh.

I volleyed my dumfounded glances between the newly arrived Bobby and his recently revealed accomplice, Stone.

"What? How? Weren't you…?" I trailed off after gesturing to Bobby's bruised face. In befuddled defeat I flopped down on the couch and held my throbbing head in my hands.

The deep rumble of Stone's voice interrupted my revere.

"Way to go Brown. She's speechless. A feat I thought only I could achieve," Stone chuckled as he sat next to me on the sofa. I jerked my head up to glare at him before returning my attention to Bobby.

The smug look on Stone's face combined with Bobby's self-assured attitude must have been the kick in the pants that I needed to regain control. And I demonstrated that by demanding answers.

And answers I received…

Three hours later as I lay in my thinking position atop Bobby's bed, I wondered what the hell I had gotten myself into exactly. The world had completely flipped upside own. Apparently while I had been entertaining the German equivalent to Comedy Night at the Apollo, Bobby and Stone had been plotting.

After I witnessed Stone being hauled away, he was locked up somewhere in the bowels of the Rangeman building in an interrogation room. From his descriptions of it, I realized I had gotten the five star accommodations and he had the equivalent of the Ramada Inn… in Bosnia. He was questioned as thoroughly as I was, in fact more so. The bruises on his torso and limbs that he showed me went a long way to prove that point. I shivered as he did, grateful that someone hadn't gotten that far with me.

Meanwhile, Bobby had been held in a locked office during the bulk of the time we were being interrogated. Tank had ordered him 'detained for his own safety' when he found out about our impending capture. Apparently, Bobby had been branded as an 'unknown variable in the equation' (according to recollection of the ominous words by the man in question); Tank translation: 'We don't trust you to not fuck things up.' Ah, the mysteries of the male mind.

Anyway, four hours after our capture, Bobby was released after an intense briefing and a 'behavioral conditioning session' with the big cheese himself, Tank (It's amazing how a little torture goes a long way to patching up the trust in a relationship).

After the initial shock and blinding rage from Tank's explanation passed, Bobby got himself assigned on the next shift as Stone's guard. I guess you could say Bobby's natural aversion to Stone was overcome by the sheer absurdity of Tank's tale of my treachery and deceit.

It was during one such stolen moment of incarceration between jailor and jailee that a deal was struck. Bobby would assist Stone's escape only if Stone promised to take me with him. Bobby also made him swear an oath to protect me at all costs (That info I stumbled across unwittingly from a conversation I eavesdropped on).

Which brings us to the present: Stone and I, fugitives from justice (not to mention Tank), hiding out in a recently acquired property of one Mr. Marcus Stevenson. Who's that you ask? (I know I did.) That is the alias of Mr. Bobby Brown. I was livid when I found out he had a place to crash for several days and yet he had still been living, or in this case, leeching off me.

Where's the justice in this situation? My place burns to the ground and Bobby has a new pad, no muss no fuss. I literally ripped Bobby a new one. He just hugged me and informed me he always had every intention of moving us both to this new loft. He assured me had just wanted to fix it up first. Build me a bedroom, that sort of thing. I had a hard time maintaining any fury after that comment. It was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever done for me; or attempted to do for me in this case. That was when he led me to his bedroom, ordered me to pack up my belongings and then get some rest.

And yet here I was hours later, still wide awake and memorizing the nuances of the steel girders above my head. Isn't that always the way? When you are supposed to sleep, you can't. I'd laugh if I didn't think it would trigger stress related tears.

**To be continued in chapter 33…**


	10. CEotCK Chapter 33 thru 36

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

I was dejected by Marcie running away to the smutcave with my man Stone, which I could barely find the emotional strength to post… It's so sad when a girl is all alone with her FMPs. As always thanks you to my editor and beta reader. You know who you are.C.)

**Chapter 33**

**Interior of Tank's office**

**Rangeman Trenton complex**

The phone receiver casing buckled and finally cracked under white knuckled fury.

"What do you mean he isn't there?" The owner of said destructive grip menacingly inquired of the party on the other end of the phone.

"Uh, just that, Boss. Brown isn't at any of the local medical facilities. No one with his name or description has been admitted to any of the hospitals or clinics in the Trenton vicinity."

"Did you think to check with Old Man Chavez?" Tank hissed through gritted teeth.

"Uh…"

"God damn it, Tio! Do I have to think of everything? Call Cal and ask him to escort you over to Chavez's place on Stark Street. Brown isn't stupid. He knows enough to get that head injury checked out by a medical professional. I want answers. _Find him_."

"What the fuck do you think I have been doing the last hour and a half? Sitting on my ass and twiddling my thumbs? And I don't need a fucking babysitter! Do you think I…"

"If you're smarter than I give you credit for, Tio, you will shut your mouth now; my way of doing it for you will be more of permanent solution."

"You can't touch me, Tank, and you know it. Ricardo would never allow it," Tio Manoso nearly chortled in glee at that thought; Tank could hear it in his voice.

"What Ricardo doesn't know won't kill him…"

"Is that a threat?"

"No, it's a promise. Once things are settled with Rangeman, you and I will discuss this further. Your familial relationship with Ricardo won't save you. Don't mistake that that asshole gives a shit about what happened to his weasel of cousin. It's not in him to care."

"I am calling Ric and he will…"

"Save it. Just do your fucking job. I don't have time to fuck around with you, Tiny." And with that Tank hung up on a still squealing Tio.

Tank curled his lip at the phone for a moment before dropping a suddenly heavy head into his hands, which were propped up on the desktop.

"Little prick," Tank mumbled under his breath. Then he let out a deep breath, trying to work out his frustration by massaging the knot of muscles in his neck.

"I hope that wasn't directed at me," a voice called out from the doorway. Tank looked up to see Lester striding into the room with a kiss-ass grin on his face.

"Tio," Tank mumbled by way of explanation.

"Ah, gotcha. One hundred percent understanding where you are coming from and I agree with that wise assessment. Why Ranger ever hired that fool is beyond me." Lester leaned a hip against the desk and crossed his brawny arms over his chest with an upturned brow.

"I guess guilt can go a long way, huh? That is why I am glad I only have one living relative; fewer factions to put the squeeze on my conscience," Lester waxed philosophically.

"Lester…"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Shut the fuck up."

"What crawled up your nose…beside the obvious? It's not your fault, Tank; you couldn't have known it was Stephanie behind all of this. Stone I can understand, but Stephanie? She had us all snowed," Lester stated with a hard edge to his voice. Lester was pissed with himself for being deceived by someone so close to them all. Innocent little burg girl, his brown ass. What he wouldn't give to wring her neck.

Tank, who wished he couldn't read Lester face so well, changed the subject.

"It's Brown. He's MIA. He never showed at St. Francis."

Lester jerked his head up to stare at Tank, his shoulders full of tension.

"Bobby? No way. He…" He shut his mouth with a snap. He refused to accept at face value the ramifications of Bobby' missing status.

"Tank, Bobby can't be the one responsible for their escape. I don't care that he was the one on the last watch. He's too much of good soldier to countermand a direct order. For Christ's sake, he was knocked out when those two broke out! You were the one that ordered him to go to the hospital to get checked out."

Lester was right. Tank would almost stake his life on the surety of Bobby's loyalty to himself and some of the others at Rangeman. Bobby had never proven himself to be suspect of any wrong doing in the past. The man was straighter than an arrow and more stable than a five legged table. If one discounted the exception of the whole Ranger/Junie ordeal, Bobby had never failed his friends. Tank had to admit that Ranger did seem to be the instigator in that; he didn't lay all the blame at Bobby's doorstep for the outcome of that situation.

Tank sighed.

But…Bobby did seem to be disturbingly close to Stephanie. He was almost (okay, the only word that accurately described it best) obsessed with her, really. How could one predict a fanatic's actions with any accuracy? Tank was worried, but he didn't want Lester to know how much. Tank had enough problems trying to keep up the charade of hunting Stephanie down along with Stone. The last thing he needed was a well-meaning Rangeman employee going vigilante on Stephanie or Bobby.

Damn Ric, anyhow! Tank might not think much of Ricardo Manoso as a man, but as Ranger, the ex-army special ops/businessman he had every confidence in him. Tank suspected Ranger knew more than he was letting on about the tapes they had received; that secretive fucker. If Ric would just trust him…

Tank brusquely shook his head and turned a hard look on Lester.

"Lester, we don't know what it means. We need to find him and then we can figure why he went missing. Since there is no definitive word on the current whereabouts of Stephanie and Stone," Tank ignored Lester's dark look at the mention of those names, "I think you would be a better resource to me in the field by assisting in the search for Brown. You know his haunts best, check them. Take Hector with you. Report back to me in thirty minute increments. Dismissed."

"Whatever you say, Boss," Lester responded dutifully as he strode toward the door. He paused with his hand on the knob and looked back at Tank.

"What did Ranger have to say about the escape?"

Tank had been dreading this question.

"I don't know; I can't locate Ranger to tell him."

Lester and Tank exchanged a meaningful glance in true Rangeman, ESP form. They both knew Ranger was _always_ accessible on his encoded SAT line. The only exception had been when Junie had died and whenever he was 'away' on a mission for the Colonel. The fact that Tank couldn't reach Ranger raised both men's hackles.

Lester broke eye contact first and left the room without a word. Not that Tank blamed him. He had no idea what to say about the situation either.

Tank groaned. No matter, he was on his own now. He knew it was his ass twisting in the wind. If Ric wouldn't give him the answers he needed then he would investigate this on his own. He's be damned if he lost Stephanie because of a misunderstanding. Tank knew he had to find her before she did dome thing foolhardy, like trying to solve this mystery on her own and getting killed in the process. And those were the positive outcomes.

Fuck Ric, he didn't need him. Wherever he was.

Tank found the phone in his hand and was dialing the Miami number before his brain registered what had happened. He listened to it ring endlessly. After thirty-two shrill electronic screeches he hung up and tried the SAT line again.

Okay, maybe he did need him. Ranger had all the fucking government connections. Tank needed his assistance if he was gonna catch the actual son of a bitch responsible for fucking with Rangeman, Inc and the US government mission information.

As the tone of the unanswered phone droned on like a harbinger of doom in his ear, Tank couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding overwhelm him. Something was not going to go well because of this situation. He just knew it. As Grammy would say, 'you feel the devil walk your grave before he collects your soul.'

Tank shivered and hoped he and his grandmother were both wrong this time.

**Meanwhile back at the warehouse loft…**

My world narrowed down to tunnel-like simplicity. Although much had been explained to me (uh, was it just a few hours ago?) not a whole lot of it made sense. (I mean come on! The most deviant behavior I have ever been accused, and been guilty, of until now has been running down Morelli with the fender of a classic automobile. Or take for instance the fact that Stone and Bobby were in league with each other. Yes, indeed, I maintain that the apocalypse has started without my knowledge.) Just because this mess didn't make sense, it wouldn't be enough to hold me back from trying to worry every little detail to death like a dog with a bone. In fact, that is just what I did until I passed out in exhaustion on Bobby's bed. I awoke with a monster headache, dry tear tracks on my face and a bad taste in my mouth. Don't think the irony of that last bit wasn't lost on me.

I ambled into the attached bath to try to clean myself up a bit. Just because I felt dirty didn't mean I had to look it.

As I gave myself a quick spit and shine with the help of the bathroom sink, I came to a complete standstill. My reflection stared back at me in the cracked mirror. The woman there looked tired. She looked sad. She looked…

I sighed.

She looked lost.

All the emotions that were simmering inside me the last twenty four hours were there on display on that pathetic being's visage in the looking glass. I reached out a hand and wiped the steam from the honed glass several times so I could keep dissecting her while the sink filled with hot water. I just couldn't look away. It was like a train wreck. I wanted to decipher her. If I could just dismiss her fears and worries, maybe then I could find some courage to keep moving forward; to compel myself to let go of the pain of friends turning their backs on you.

A heavy knock at the door startled me out of my introspection.

"Angel, you ready? You two have to leave soon if you are going to slip under Tank's radar."

I cleared my throat.

"Uh, y-yeah. Just a minute," I called out in falsetto sing-song.

"Get a move on, Angel. See you downstairs in five," the muffled reply sounded through the wood of the door. I waited until the sound of his footfalls faded before I relaxed with a slump against the counter.

"Get a grip, Plum," I rasped as I returned my gaze to the mirror and gazed at the frazzled woman reflected there.

"You have to pull yourself together."

Was it my imagination or did the girl in the mirror look as dubious about the success of that outcome as I was. I wiped away all the signs of tears from my face with the back of my hand.

"Never let them see you cry," I whispered to looking glass.

I watched as a tiny smile tugged at the corners of my mouth as that particular phrase echoed off the porcelain-tiled walls. It brought back bittersweet memories of when my father gave me that exact advice about my klutzy performance in the girls' summer softball league when I was ten.

One sizzling summer day I was picked to play right field. Everything went well until the last play of the game. I ran to make the winning catch, was inches away from success, when I managed to trip over my own feet. I had been heartbroken. Even my teammates had jeered as they ran infield. I remember sitting in the dirt, tears streaming down my face, which was burrowed against my knees, when Dad found me. He had pulled me into a rare hug, smoothed a loose hair back from my face, and tipped my chin up to face him.

"Pumpkin, don't worry about what they think. It doesn't matter. What you think is all that matters. Just remember this, baby: never let them see you cry."

Good advice no matter what your age.

I splashed some cold water on my face and exited into the bedroom. Clutching my towel around my chest, I peeked outside the door and scurried toward the bedroom. It was then I realized that I didn't have any fresh clothes here. All my stuff was still at the Rangeman complex. Shit.

That was when my eyes landed on the half-made bed. There atop the rumbled comforter was a light blue demi-bra with matching panties, jean skirt, navy blue fitted tee shirt, and low-heeled straw colored wedge Candies. After a thorough examination I realized everything was in my size. Either Bobby was a very petite cross dresser or this stuff was put out for me to wear. I was betting on it being meant for me. Bobby didn't strike me as a baby blue panties man; not very complimentary to his ebony coloring.

As I dressed, I couldn't help but wonder who had bought the clothes, not to mention how they knew my size. I passed on the wedges and slipped my feet back into my worn sneakers; the better to run away from the big bag wolf when he showed up on my straw hut doorstep. I knew it was just matter of time before Tank…

That single thought got me moving and I shoved everything, old clothes and new shoes alike, into the provided duffle bag. At I picked up the bag an envelope fell to the floor.

Curiosity got the better of me (big surprise) so I slung the duffle strap over my shoulder, ripped open the envelope, and read the enclosed note. It was from Bobby. My eyebrows raised in astonishment as I absorbed the words.

**Angel,**

**Please accept these as a token of affection for you. I know you normally wouldn't allow me to buy you anything this personal, but under the circumstances I thought it wise to give them to you. If you look in the first three drawers of the dresser you will find some additional items I purchased with you in mind that I think you should take with you. Who knows how long you will be gone. I have no doubt that you will need them. Don't argue, just take them. I was planning on giving them to you when I gave you the enclosed items anyway. I just wish it were under different circumstances, more pleasant ones anyway. **

**I want you to know how much you mean to me. You have given me back something that thought I lost : the unconditional love of a sister. If you ever need me just call. Also enclosed is the number of an encrypted phone I own. No one else has the number. It is for your knowledge and use only, so please kept the information private. **

**I promise to be there for you… always.**

**Love,**

**Bobby**

I folded the letter precisely and slid it into the back pocket of my jean skirt. I could deal with the ramifications of only so much emotion in one day…just not yet. As I started to crumble the envelope I felt a lump. I unfolded and shook it. A small object wrapped in a yellow post-it note tumbled into the palm of my hand. I unwrapped the paper and uncovered a key. It looked like your run of the mill house key nothing special until… I flipped it over. Engraved along the top of the key were the words 'Home is where the heart is.'

Okay…

I decided to ignore that and move my attention to the post-it. It didn't make much sense either. It had several numbers written on it in Bobby's handwriting. It had too many digits to be a phone number. Well, one I recognized anyway. I stuck the note in my back pocket and stared at the key again. What the hell was this to? A house? That would make sense with the phrase personalized on it. And then it hit me.

Oh, shit. It was to this apartment, Bobby's apartment.

Well, if I didn't believe him before, I sure as hell as did now.

I closed my fist around the key, causing metal to bite into flesh, and wondered where I should put it for safe-keeping. I felt the chain around my neck tug at a lock of my hair, bringing tears to my eyes. Okay, if that wasn't divine intervention, I don't know what is. After unclasping it, I threaded the key on the necklace. Obviously I couldn't put it back on my neck. The weight of it would cause me to go bald. I looped it around my ankle and tucked the end of the key between my shoe and sock. That would have to suffice for now.

After adding the additional clothing I found in the directed dresser (the sheer number and variety of outfits astounded me), I scooped up the duffel and made my way to the stair landing. I paused for a moment gathering some courage.

It was time to face the lions.

**To be continued in chapter 34…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

Bah, I'm so sick of feelings and emotional angst and… BAH! BAH! A pox I say! A pox on their houses! I can't wait to move on already. sigh Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Be forewarned: I was told REPEATEDLY this was a very vexing chapter. And lastly, I want to thank those brave few who have tottered after this story through thick and thin (no matter how evil I seem). You ladies ROCK! I would never have had the courage to keep posting this "BEAST" if it wasn't for you. C.)

**Chapter 34**

I tried to focus my thoughts into nothingness as I loped down the bedroom staircase to the main floor of the loft to join the guys. I envisioned myself transforming into a stoic Neanderthal; focused to a Zen like state where nothing but my actions and goal mattered. The obstacle to achieving this feat was the very fact that thinking the word Neanderthal reminded me of my Rangeman co-workers. Crap, I mean _ex_-coworkers. Don't ask me why; but I somehow think that I am officially fired from Rangeman, Inc. It must've been the chains and manacles that sealed it.

That thought led me to the next disturbing one. I just couldn't wrap my mind around the fact that I was Rangeman prey. Not to mention being on the wrong side of the law because of the arson. I bet every cop in Trenton was already on the lookout for us. I related that last thought to Stone when I found him sitting at the Formica table in the main living area, his stature making him look grotesquely Gulliver in relationship to the furniture's Lilliputian proportions.

Stone never deigned to verbally respond to my worried babble. So then I asked him where Bobby had run off to since he wasn't in the room when I entered. He merely gave me a long, silent look before returning his attention to the map spread out before him on the table.

What? He doesn't worry about the small stuff like, say, being a fugitive from the law? I was seriously starting to question his sanity if not his abilities.

More than a little put out by his display, I picked up my duffle, recently repacked with a designer wardrobe provided by one Bobby Brown, and made my way to the lower staircase that would return me to the garage portion of the warehouse. I absolutely refused to dwell on the recently furnished clothes and the implications of them. My head was pounding enough already.

I reached the last landing and skipped over the last two stair treads, suddenly anxious to get the hell out of Dodge. I sprinted over to the mini-van and quickly stowed my bag in the rear compartment.

And yes, I said mini-van. You heard me right--Bobby Brown owned a minivan. Bobby said it was less conspicuous than the Nissan. He insisted Stone and I take it. Well, it was pure conjecture on my part that he owned the mini-van. It was in his garage so he had to own it, right?

I tried to ignore the bumper sticker on the van's rear hatch as I closed it. The one that proclaimed the vehicle was driven by the 'Proud Parent of an Honor Roll Student at Jefferson Middle School.'

Crap.

Oh well. One more felony can't do any harm at this point, can it?

Happy thoughts, happy thoughts.

By the time I stomped my way back up the rickety wooden staircase to the loft, Stone appeared to have completed his cartography training with the newly returned Bobby. As I reached the top landing a hush fell over the room. The kind of hush that descends when someone is either talking about you or doesn't want you to know something. How very curious and how incredibly irritating.

With crossed arms and an equally cross look, I walked over to stand beside Bobby's chair. When I wasn't acknowledged immediately by either man (both of whom were currently involved in some sort of manly stare-down) I obnoxiously cleared my throat and hip checked Bobby. Since he was seated I thought the action would only be a nuisance greeting and jar him slightly. I obviously miscalculated my strength.

Bobby now lay sprawled out on the wooden floor wearing a surprised expression on his face, one that quickly turned murderous. I subsequently reacted with my trademark eloquent grace and logical linguistics.

"Oops! Uh… sorry?" I gulped and took off across the room toward the staircase in a flat out run. I had the overwhelming sensation of being a wildebeest that had just unintentionally stepped on the lion's tail.

Bobby tackled me at the knees and I crumpled to the floor. He was going for a new World Wrestling Federation record for longest headlock when Stone finally interceded on my behalf. Or so I thought until I registered the meaning of his words.

"Whenever you are ready to finish things up here, Brown, let me know," Stone callously stated, without a hint of his trademark humor present.

I watched him stride from the room with a furrowed brow (as much as one can furrow one's face while it's schmooshed against a floorboard) and turned an inquiring fisheye on Bobby. He sighed loudly as he righted himself and pulled me up to my feet with him.

"What's eating him?" I snorted.

Bobby sat on the couch and pulled me into his lap so we were nearly eye-to-eye.

"What do you think, Angel?"

Now there was an evasive answer if I ever head one. Huge eye roll.

"Do you think I would be asking you if I knew?" I grumbled.

Bobby smirked, going from somber to amusement in the blink of an eye.

"No, I don't suppose you would, would you? You're simple like that," he finished softly.

I screwed up my face, battening down the hatches to go toe to toe on the defensive front, when Bobby managed to derail me.

"I meant that as a compliment. You are, with a few exceptions, uncomplicated in your motives. You mean what you say and, for the majority of the time, say what you mean." Bobby fixed me with an inscrutable look before continuing.

"It's that 'rest of the time,' when those exceptions rear their ugly heads, which gets you into trouble."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean, Bobby?" I scowled at him.

"Don't play dumb with me, Angel. You know what I meant. If you dropped the self-righteous indignation routine and really thought about it you'd figure it out."

I clamped my mouth shut on the nasty automatic retort that threatened to spill from my lips, and decided to give Bobby the benefit of the doubt.

Okay, Stone was upset with Bobby... and all right, even with me. But why? The only thing Bobby had done before Stone's exit was to mess with me. We were just goofing off to let off some steam; it wasn't like Stone hadn't done the same sort of thing with me in the past. Heck, even during the aftermath of the whole fire crisis at my parents, Stone took the time to tease me. Bobby and I had just been wrestling for Pete's sake; it had all been innocent. It wasn't like he was hurting me or anything…

"Shit," I blurted.

Bobby nodded slowly.

"Figured it out, Angel? Do you know why Stone was upset just now?"

"Um, maybe," I ventured with uncertainty.

"Okay," Bobby uttered.

Funny how that single word seemed to weigh down the air I breathed. Bobby turned the patented Rangeman stare on me. You know, the one that makes Mafioso and drug cartel members alike soil themselves like toddlers on the first day of daycare. There would be no evasive maneuver for this conversation.

"It's because I let you touch me."

Bobby must not have been expecting that particular response because both his eyebrows raised and his face darkened. And then it was my turn to thwart a potential tirade.

"What I meant just now was that, um, we were wrestling and I let you touch me. I didn't flinch."

Now Bobby added a touch of confusion to his angry expression.

"What?" It was Bobby's turn to furrow his brow. "Are you saying he touched you? And then you flinched?"

I watched helplessly as thoughts ran wild across his glowering face.

"No, it wasn't like that." I rolled my eyes. "I just wasn't expecting his action at the time. He was just leaning over to buckle me into the seat."

"So you flinched because he buckled you into a seat belt?" I nodded at him.

"You really expect me believe that?" he frowned. "Were you afraid of him, Angel? Why did you react that way to such a benevolent act? What did you think he was going to do?"

Ding, ding, ding! Survey says: question of the day? I think so.

"Kiss me, I guess?" I proposed.

He grew angry again. It was the jaw pulse that gave away the severity of it.

"Has he done that before?" Uh-oh, the Bobby Brown interrogation voice.

I was starting to become uncomfortable with this conversation. Shit, he really took this brother stuff seriously.

"Yes, he has," I admitted, wary of Bobby's sudden dark mood. I heard a popping sound. Hello TMJ! Bobby was going to need to seek some serious dental expertise if he kept this up.

"Why?"

"Huh?" I retorted wittily.

"Why did he kiss you?"

I crossed my arms and withdrew a bit from his embrace. I narrowed my eyes to convey what I thought of that particular question.

"Uh, for the usual reasons I suppose. He likes me?" I wasn't sure if I was telling him that's what I thought or if I was just now trying to figure out Stone's intentions myself.

"Jesus, Stephanie! This isn't junior high school. I meant why did you _let_ him? Did you _want_ him to kiss you?"

Ah, now there's the rub.

"I don't know exactly why, Bobby. What do you want me to say?" I grated in irritation. "That I find him irresistible? That I melt at his touch? That I wouldn't mind marrying a man who accepts me…"

Where did that thought come from? Shit.

I looked at Bobby and deduced that same thought had occurred to him too.

"Fuck. No one mentioned marriage before now, Stephanie. Why the hell would you…?" The anger erased from his face like chalk from a slate; here one minute, gone the next.

"Did he propose to you?" Bobby's voice was bereft of emotion, belying the intensity of his charged words.

I blinked twice at him, like a scared woodland creature who had just stumbled across an unseen predator.

Again.

Damn freaking lion!

Bobby reached out and hauled me so close that we were practically nose to nose. So close that I felt like I was training to become his dermatologist or E.N.T.

"Did Stone propose marriage to you, Stephanie?"

His hands tightened on my arms. The pain spurred on the threat of tears prickling at the corners of my eyes.

"You're hurting me, Bobby." His response was to give me a tiny shake. Nothing particularly ominous if one overlooked the gleam in his eye.

"Answer me, Angel."

"No? Well, I suppose he sort of asked. I-I-I'm not sure now…" Bobby was starting to frighten me.

And just like that, just when I thought things were going to go bonkers, the pressure abruptly ceased and he released me. As the circulation resumed with a vengeance, my arms tingled by the assault of thousands of pins and needles. I rubbed the skin in an effort to dispel my incredulity at what just happened.

"Wait here," Bobby instructed in a no-nonsense tone as he removed me from his lap and ran towards the stairs leading to the bedroom level of the loft.

I didn't respond. I honestly was still trying to gather enough wits about me to ascertain what the hell just happened. By the time I did, Bobby was long gone and out of sight. I realized he must have gone in the same direction as Stone. Well, shit. What do I do now? I mean, Bobby wasn't exactly calm when he left just now. Hell, neither was Stone. I decided to take action.

I crept up the stairs whispering a silent pray to the god of stealth that I wouldn't make any of the stairs creak as I did. I slunk down the short hall and I tentatively popped my head around the bedroom doorjamb waiting for an explosion. When nothing happened, I slowed the jack hammering of my heart and grasped that neither man was there.

That was strange. Where did they go? I thought the bedroom was the only room up here.

I ran to the bathroom and searched it. I even looked in the shower stall, which just tells you how frantic I had become. I wandered back out into the bedroom and frowned.

Where the hell…?

I heard a muffled curse and then an ominous crashing sound. It sounded like the cacophony was nearby but muffled. I ran to the balcony and looked downstairs. Nope not there.

And then it hit me right behind the eyes. The sound came from behind the far bedroom wall.

I ran back inside searching for a secret passage of some sort, running my hands over all the mortar joints of the walls, desperate to find the entrance. After two more crashes and no further progress locating the door I was convinced that was hidden in the wall there, I kicked the closet door in frustration. After I ceased hopping around with my foot in my hand like a demented bunny rabbit, I could have slapped myself.

Oh, man. The closet.

I shut my eyes monetarily and then opened the door slowly. Behind the rack of clothes I found a recessed latch. I was about to push open the door revealed there when I heard angry voices and froze in my tracks. I was rethinking this whole 'barge in and save the day' plan I had concocted as I overheard some particularly nasty words float through the crack.

My eyebrows rose of their own volition. They were heatedly debating something it seemed. I never knew that Bobby or Stone could swear like that. If the situation had been different I might have laughed at one particular gem when Stone lamented Bobby's sad lineage in relationship to that of a bloodhound. When he got to the one about Bobby's mother I gasped. Not even Morelli's navy day recollections could have prepared me for that one.

I heard a slam and the crack of something wooden breaking.

Wonderful. What is it with these guys? I reached my hand out to push the door open to stop this insanity when it happened. I stopped dead; my blood ran cold. I morbidly pressed my ear against the door to make sure I was hearing correctly.

_"She's mine. I won't let you do this to her; make her some common whore!"_

_"You are fucking insane, Brown!"_

Another series of grunts and thumps occurred then the sound of flesh slamming against flesh.

_"She's too good for you. I should never have introduced you to her. You will only use her like the others. I'll kill you before I let you…"_

What does he mean he 'introduced' us? Tank did, if you want to get technical. Why did Bobby say that?

I hear another grunt and then the sound of some of physical grappling.

"_Stay down, Brown. I mean it! I will harm you if need be. Stay still."_

A choked sound and then silence. And just when I thought I couldn't stand the white noise any longer without going insane, I heard a sigh.

_"Jesus, Brown. What the fuck are you talking about?"_

A muffled sob followed that comment.

_"She's my sister, man. Don't do this. Don't use her. Junie deserves better than that. Don't tell her you will marry her..." _Bobby moaned.

_"Fuck."_

My thoughts exactly, Stone.

_"She's Stephanie. We were talking about Stephanie, remember? I'm not who you think I am, Brown."_

A pregnant pause.

_"Bobby, you hear me?"_

The sound of a slap echoed

_"Snap out of it!"_

Oh. My. God.

Bobby really thinks I'm his dead sister. I swayed on my feet. I thought I was just an emotional surrogate for his sister. I never thought he was this attached. Or this crazy. I never thought he believed I actually embodied Junie. That he had…

I gulped and threw a hand up to splay across my chest. As if that simple action could somehow revive my heart.

I slowly recalled how to breathe and tuned back to the conversation. Apparently Bobby had safely returned from his trip to Planet Looney.

_"…it happens like that."_ Bobby's voice.

_"You need help."_ Stone's voice.

Tense silence.

_"Maybe,"_ Bobby grudgingly agreed before continuing. _"But the fact still remains that you need to back off Angel. Stephanie is not just some casual fuck."_

Someone growled. I think it was Stone. The sound of more wrestling, a cracking sound and then a groan. Both men were now panting.

_"That's our affair. But I will tell you this, what I feel for that woman is not casual. Not even close," _Stone answered in one of the harshest tones I hade ever heard.

_"So you meant what you said?"_

_"Again that's private business between me and Stephanie."_

_"I'm making it my business," _Bobby snarled.

_"Oh for God's sake man, how many times do I have to tell you? I won't hurt her. I want to keep her safe just like you asked me to back at the compound." _Stone sounded even more exasperated at that comment than by anything else that has occurred thus far.

_"No, you mean you want to fuck her!" _Bobby shouted.

_"Yes and no. It's more than that and you know that. I love her."_

Holy shit!

I jumped away from the door as if it had suddenly caught fire. I backed out of the closet, cautiously shut that door and ran down the stairs to the living room. I hurled myself onto the sofa and tried to calm down.

Fat chance of that happening anytime soon!

By the time they came back downstairs twenty minutes later, I must have appeared my normal self. Not like a woman who had just eavesdropped on a conversation whereby she discovered one man was a complete loony and the other just declared himself… smitten by her.

I just couldn't bring myself to even think the word 'love' in connection with Stone's name. It was beyond belief. So I just plastered a perplexed look on my face (not a stretch) and garnished it with a wary frown. Neither man looked at my face and screamed 'Ah-HA!' so I took that as a good sign that my snooping would remain undiscovered.

"Angel, Angel?" Bobby's voice yanked me from my anxious ruminations. I looked up to find him bent over my reclining form on the couch.

"Uh, um, yeah? You said something, Bobby?"

The two men exchanged a look. Okay, maybe I wasn't as slick as I thought. I scurried to do damage control.

"Uh, is it time to leave?" I uttered brightly, trying to infuse innocence and light into my expression.

Bobby frowned at those words, but chose to interpret my mood differently than for what it truly was.

"Don't worry, Angel. Before you know it we'll have this whole thing cleared up and you'll be able to come home. Stone and I will be in constant communication the whole time you're gone. I'll be playing my part here to find out what's going on. With any luck we can resolve this situation with a little ingenuity and some recon in just a few days. I'll find this hacker bastard and nail his ass to the wall," Bobby growled and then pulled me in for a long hug.

I felt unnaturally wooden in his arms, not quite sure how to react to him now.

"If it helps any, I'll miss you like crazy," Bobby whispered into the ear near his mouth.

I blinked, trying to mask my reaction to that last, very accurate sentence.

"Uh, ditto." I finally squeezed him back lightly in return. I knew he was perplexed by my weird reaction as he pulled back and studied my face. He must have decided to shrug it off again as trepidation about the whole running underground scenario.

Bobby and Stone exchanged some last minute instructions with one another as the three of us climbed down the stairs single file to the mini-van. To be honest I didn't hear a word of what they said. I was too busy avoiding even looking at Stone's eyes and the presence of Bobby's fingers at the small of my back as we descended. I was frightened of both of them for entirely different reasons.

Or maybe not; both men were capable of attacking or trapping me; just different forms of those acts, that was all. I shivered at that last thought as we reached the passenger door and Bobby felt that involuntary physical reaction.

He smiled sadly as he buckled me into the van and shut the door. He leaned in through the open window.

"I love you, Angel. Remember, you will come home safe to me, to your heart." And with that he pressed a kiss to my cheek.

I suspected he felt me tense at his touch. I assumed it when I watched him say good-bye to Stone. I was certain of it when we pulled out of the warehouse.

It was his expression that momentarily swayed me. I believed him deeply wounded as I watched him in the side view mirror, standing in the recessed light of the garage door closing. I observed him disappear behind those doors as the van gradually increased in speed. Long after they shut I was still gazing into the mirror, at odds about my reaction and his.

Was I wrong? Did I misunderstand what happened? Was Bobby fruit loops or was he just kind and loving? Was I making a mountain out of a molehill? Was I…

Shit.

I looked away from the mirror and tried to banish my thoughts of him. Little did I realize I would regret doing that and a great many more things that were yet to come. I had no way of knowing that would be the last time I, Stephanie 'Bombshell' Plum, would set eyes on Bobby Brown.

**To be continued in chapter 35…**

**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind**

**By FlyingKit aka Christine**

Note; STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moola for this luverly little tale.

Here's to all my buddies. You ladies are the wind beneath my cheesy wings. Sincerely, though, thank you. To my rock of lust, Ellie, my long suffering editor, Mo, my pr rep KappyQ, my juice wheezing best bud-dddy, Marcie and my cheerleader, Suze: thanks for the ongoing good vibes you send my way. And to all the newbies I soul sucked into the vortex that is CEotCK: welcome to the bumpy ride. I'm gonna ride this roller coaster 'til it flies off the tracks. PS has anyone seen SaMi lately? C.)

**Chapter 35**

****

_Was I wrong? Did I misunderstand what happened? Was Bobby fruit loops or was he just kind and loving? Was I making a mountain out of a molehill? Was I… _

_Shit. _

_I looked away from the mirror and tried to banish my thoughts of him. Little did I realize I would regret doing that and a great many more things that were yet to come. I had no way of knowing that would be the last time I, Stephanie 'Bombshell' Plum, would set eyes on Bobby Brown._

"So you don't trust him either."

I whipped my head around to gape at Stone. I was momentarily blinded by his insight. And then I realized what he just said also referenced something else.

"What do you mean 'either'? You think I don't trust you?" I whispered in shock, trying the words out for size. This conversation was vaguely similar to… (Okay, I'll just say it) every argument I ever had with Morelli when we were dating. Except in this case the roles were disturbingly reversed. There, that wasn't so hard to admit, was it? Ugh.

"No, I think you don't. I'm not sure if you trust anyone really," Stone retorted without peeling his gaze from the road.

I'm not sure what torqued me off more; the fact that he wouldn't look at me or that he thought that I trusted no one.

"Would I be gallivanting off to God-only-knows-where in the dark of night with you if I didn't?" I ground out between clenched teeth.

"Who knows, I obviously don't. Are you the type of woman who would run from the law with an alleged accomplice to whom she is attracted but doesn't trust? I wonder if Mañoso knew that about you. Maybe he did, and he took advantage of it."

"What the hell does that mean, Stone?"

The sound of the interstate whistling outside my door was my only answer. I studied Stone's face and noted how taut the muscles in his neck were; He could give a banjo a run for its money.

"Damn it, do you intend to answer me or not?"

The roar of rubber raging against cracked asphalt grew louder; almost as loud as the blood roaring through my ears, but not quite. My anger burned so bright at this latest indignity that it blazed white hot.

"Fuck you, Stone," I whispered and then turned my back on him. (Well, I turned my back as much as I could while strapped in like a mummy. Damn mommy-vans and their safety belts. How can a girl adequately sulk in one of these things?)

The weight of the silence that ensued after my outburst was stifling. After ten silent minutes I decided to ignore the waves of tension radiating off Stone in the most rewarding way I knew how (naptime), when Stone spoke.

"Yes, Mañoso may have fucked you over, but you didn't have to take it. And you don't have to make everyone else who cares about you pay for his mistake. He hurt you. We all get hurt in life. And we all hurt people in return. It doesn't make it right."

How dare he imply that there was something wrong with me? How dare this man who barely knew me for a month tell me I was deficient in any department? How dare he tell me that I let Ranger use me? Hell, I trusted Ranger and look what it got me. Uh, let's see… there is so much to count up. It got me a big nothing that's what! Damn man, couldn't he see that? Couldn't he see that blind trust is what got me into the mess that was my current life? The man I cared for left me and then snubbed me. The men I considered my extended family betrayed me and now I am a fugitive from the law. Oh yeah. Life was a bed of freaking roses.

I swam in the discontent that the swirling current of thought drowned me in until I felt myself transform into the emotional equivalent of a piranha. I savored the rage like a fine wine, nursing it until it became a smoldering mass of resentment.

"Did you ever think maybe I'm not the problem? Maybe it's not that I can't trust, just maybe it's that I can't trust you. A man like you who thinks scruples are currency and morals are mushrooms," I spat the final syllables of the last sentence at Stone as if they were venomous.

When I leaned toward Stone across the divide of the front seats as I said the last words I had an ideal position to view his face. So, needless to say, I caught his crestfallen hurt etched there a nanosecond before he pulled on a blank mask.

I sighed and sat back in my seat at loss as to what to do now. Even though I was certain I was the victim in this verbal assault, I couldn't help but regret those last words about his character. I mean, yeah sure, he was an ass. But did I need to lower myself to his level? Okay, so it wasn't exactly a long journey for me in the decency department…and I hated that he forced me to this have that moral realization.

After ten minutes rolled by I came to the conclusion that Stone had no intention of talking to me further on this trip. No way was I going to let him squirm out of the situation he created.

"So are you going to tell me where exactly we are headed?"

"No." He didn't bat an eyelash as he said it too.

"What?" I spat and turned incredulous eyes on Stone.

"No, that really wasn't something I felt like doing right now."

I'll just bet. He probably was entertaining thoughts of homicidal asphyxiation by way of seat belt instead. Well, tough. I had a fan club full of people who wanted to kill me for years now. Stone was merely a card-carrying member, not the president. The last I heard Morelli still held that position, with the major competition for the office being my mother, the nurturer.

"Fine, but tell me anyway. For kicks why don't you try being straight with me."

In profile I watched Stone's eyes narrow. Well, shucks. I pissed him off some more. I guess good old Mom was wrong again. You could grow up to be a professional pain in the ass. I'll have to tell her the next time we have a one of those inspiring yet memorable heart-to-hearts she was so famous for sharing with me. The joy, the bliss.

"The City. We are headed for New York City. No more questions, please. I don't think I can manage to continue this caliber of good cheer for the duration with anymore of your witty repartee flying around."

"Touché," I rasped. "Remember you started it, I didn't. You wanted me to respond, so I did. Just because you don't like the way I did it, or the content, don't take it out on those around you." I smirked as I used his words against him. Two could play that game. "We can't all see eye-to-eye on everything in life, Stone."

"No, but it would be nice if you could truly see some things, Stephanie. For instance: the fact that people have feelings even if you choose to ignore them."

The unexpected comment jerked my head around like a top to stare at him. He exchanged such an emotionally charged look with me that I was afraid the intensity of it would cause the van to wreck and I don't think either of us would notice. Until that moment, I had been so worked up about him railroading me that I had forgotten his closeted (pardon the pun) declaration of love. Shit.

I looked away first.

Wary of any further draining discussions of any kind, I reached in the back seat and grabbed a hooded sweatshirt out a duffle bag. I outfitted myself in it and pulled the hood up like a shield in one smooth motion. Once my Old Navy emotional armor was in place, I reclined my seat and rolled over to face the door. I willed myself to sleep, but it was hard. For some reason the rhythm of Stone's breathing seemed to monopolize my thoughts too much for any type of restful respite to take hold. Damn his lungs. What did he need to breathe for anyway? Cripes, even when pissed off I still find him sexy. Someone please shoot me and put me out of my misery. I wonder if there was such a thing as a hormone-ectomy. Ugh.

**Two hours later,**

**Interior of Tank's office at the Rangeman complex…**

Anger percolated as Tank slammed the battered phone receiver down into the cradle. It was nearly midnight and there was still no sign of Bobby, Stephanie or Stone. And to cap things off, that ass, Tio, had called off the rest of the shift saying he had a date. A fucking date! Tank wanted to kill the slack ass. Tio was always doing brainless, inconsiderate shit like that. It was no wonder no one at Rangeman could stand the prick.

Tank sighed and stroked his bald head in an effort to shake loose a thought; any thought, really, that would help him figure out where the black hole was located that was gobbling up his personnel like Pac-man prey. He still couldn't believe Hector had gone missing too. He groaned. What the hell else could go wrong at this point? Upon later review he wished he hadn't thought that.

He jumped at the sound of his landline ringing. Either that or a dying frog was loose in his office. Tank was calculating his need to expand the equipment budget to include a new purchase allotment for phones as his scooped up the receiver.

"What."

"Charles?" the vaguely familiar, female voice wobbled tentatively. Tank cringed at the name.

"Yes, who is this?"

"Don't you know my voice after at least nine years, Charles? Or is it Tank? I never could call you that ridiculous name. Only a man would pick 'Tank' as a nickname. I never understood that you know; the need to name yourself after an inanimate object or add an –er to the end of a verb as a name." The infernal woman snorted as she said the last and Tank started grinding his teeth.

"Christ almighty, Mia, do you have a point to all this rambling?" Tank rolled his eyes at the woman on the other end of the line even though he knew she couldn't see him. Amelia Jones-Mañoso always did get on his nerves long before she married and divorced his best friend. Tank thought it had something to do with the fact that Mia had still been Bobby's girlfriend when she had first weaseled into Ranger's bed and affections. Tramp. The only good thing that harpy had ever done was give birth to his goddaughter, Lissa.

"You should acquire some manners, Charles. You should know that after being such a successful 'businessman' in Trenton. Why I should think that all your gun-running buddies would like you to be more courteous the next time you broker a deal on the golf course."

Tank snapped at that last jibe.

"Mia! Do you have a point to all this or is this just your usual bitchiness shining through? If so, fuck off. I don't have time for you histrionics. Some off us have to earn our livings and not just sponge off others." He heard her gasp at that comment and Tank immediately regretted his words. Now he would have to listen to her phony weeping and placate her enough so he could get off the phone to do some real work. Babysitting the ex-wife of a man with whom he wasn't speaking socially was not his idea of a fun. It was as he listened to Mia sob eloquently and half-heartedly muttered the appropriate placations that Tank heard his cell phone ring.

"I have to go, Mia. I'll have to call you back." Tank looked over his shoulder toward the cell phone that was even now mamboing across his desk barely out of reach. He groaned as it fell to the floor into the dark, unwholesome chasm between his desk and the wall. God only knew what lurked back there. He had counted 4 rings so far. He didn't have time for this crap. He leaned over to try and fish the mobile phone towards him with his foot as it abruptly silenced.

Mia continued even as Tank finished his plea to call her back. "No! You can't just hang up on me like that! Everyone keeps leaving me. I can't deal with another person doing it to me in any form right now. Fuck you and tell your buddy, Ric, he can shove that house of his up his ass. I don't want it!"

That got his attention. Tank dismissed the cell phone from his mind and tuned back into the conversation at hand.

"What did you just say?"

His cell phone resumed its ringing from its dust bunny den behind the desk, but Tank wasn't interested in its existence now.

"Oh, didn't you know? That bastard called me a couple of hours ago to tell me he was leaving Miami for good. He gave me his house on the beach. What the hell am I going to do with that monstrosity? I don't have the money to upkeep that thing. The inconsiderate…"

Tank interrupted before she could rant out of control. Meanwhile the cell phone ceased its noise for the second time.

"For God's sake, Mia, you are rolling in piles of alimony money from all those poor schmucks you conned. You're up to—what? -- husband number five now? So give me a break. And you and I both know he didn't leave the house to you, did he? He intended it be kept for Lissa, I'm certain of that." Tank was also certain things would have to be pretty bleak if Ranger had pre-empted his will and gave the house outright to his daughter. Tank's stomach started to churn. He could almost hear the melodious tones. But no, that was the incessant cell phone again.

"Now, stop the melodrama. What exactly did he say to you? No embellishments, Mia. I'm not in the mood," Tank ordered. He heard her swallow loudly before answering.

"He gave me some line about some dangerous work he was doing and not making back from some mission. He informed me he was giving the house to us. Then he wanted to talk to Melissa. Can you believe he wanted me to wake her up so he could talk to her? That asshole. I told him…"

"Are you telling me that after he said he was leaving town, that he wasn't coming back in one piece, that he wanted to speak to his only daughter before going… and you told him no? You denied him that?" Tank's voice lowered to a dangerous octave without his knowledge, but Mia most definitely heard it.

"I-I-I didn't think he was serious. I thought it was a power play. You know, his weird way of keeping tabs on us. You of all people know how controlling he can be, Charles. How was I to know it was serious? I mean he…"

Tank wanted to strangle the manipulative bitch.

"You and I both know he wouldn't fuck around when it comes to Lissa. Why did you really call here, Mia? What do you want from me?" Tank ground out in exasperation. All he wanted to do now was get on the phone and reach Ranger's private attorney, Richard Mann, to find out what the hell was going on. Tank knew Ranger wouldn't leave town on a dangerous mission without amending his legal paperwork. Especially if Ranger thought he was leaving on a suicidal mission as Tank suspected.

"I had some second thoughts and wondered if maybe I had misunderstood. Charles, h-h-he sounded so final. When he said goodbye he sounded so lost. Ric has never sounded lost in his entire life. I am so worried. Please tell me you'll find him, Charles. Make sure he's okay," Mia finished the words in a small voice. If Tank didn't know better he would almost believe that she was worried about Ranger's well-being. But…

"I have every intention of doing that, Mia. Don't worry." Then Tank decided to bait the hook. "Do you need anything?"

"Well, now that you mention it, Ric's lawyer mentioned a possible stipend he would be dispensing for the house upkeep. I was wondering if you could support me with that. You know how hard it can be taking care of a big empty property. Don't you take care of his house in Trenton?"

So that was her game; trying to weasel more property and assets out of Ranger's soon-to-be corpse. Tank laughed at her scheming in order to keep the homicidal rage at bay.

"Let me think about it, Mia. Don't call me, I'll call you." Tank practically snorted as he hung up on her protesting voice. Some leopards never changed their spots; Mia always was a predator. Too bad none of the men her life figured it out in time.

Tank picked up the phone and dialed the number of Richard Mann's private residence in Philadelphia. He didn't care if it was almost one in the morning. This was the kind of stuff the attorney was paid to do in Tank's opinion. He growled as the line rang. It almost seemed to echo. No, it was the damn mobile phone again, ringing in tandem, Tank realized. Well, fuck them, whoever they were. This was more important.

**Meanwhile a few minutes earlier **

**Across town in the bowels of the warehouse district…**

The staccato beat reverberated in the cab of the truck like a small snare drum. Lester stilled his finger assault against the steering wheel. He glanced out the windshield into the inky darkness that consumed the abandoned street before him for the millionth time that night. He sighed. Lester had no idea what he would do if this lead didn't pan out.

Bobby might have thought no one else knew about this new building of his, but he was wrong. Lester had known about it for a few days, although he had discovered its existence completely by accident. Okay, Lester had been snooping, but it was the results that mattered not the means, wasn't it? It wasn't Lester's fault that Bobby had left the legal paperwork in his desk where just anyone could come across it.

Lester recoiled at the memory of that discovery. There, in horrid black and white, had been Bobby's Last Will and Testament. Upon reading, Lester discovered Robert 'Bobby' Allen Brown had left everything he owned to Stephanie Michelle Plum, including his shares of Rangeman Ltd. and the derelict warehouse that was located just outside Lester's window now. In light of recent events, Lester was appalled Bobby had allowed the paperwork to stand unchanged. But one couldn't dispute the evidence. On the last page Bobby had scrawled his bold signature. Lester had even surreptitiously sought the consultation of the Rangeman attorney. The man confirmed the validity of the contract's contents and that it had already been officially filed after Bobby dropped it off, _two hours_ after Stephanie had escaped.

"Fuck, Brown. What the hell were you thinking, you asshole? Jesus," Lester growled into the silence.

Lester reached into the passenger seat and picked up his recent illegal acquisition from the Rangeman equipment locker. Tank might skin him alive when he discovered Lester removed the night vision goggles he now had in his hand, but fuck it. He needed all the help he could get on this stakeout since he was working solo. Tank had nearly shit a brick when Lester informed him that Hector, his partner for the night, had gone missing.

Lester grunted and lowered the goggles. Fuck, this was looking bad for Bobby. When Hector went MIA Lester had decided then not to tell Tank about the will or the warehouse. Why damn Bobby anymore than he already appeared to be now. Besides, as soon as Lester found Bobby he would ask him what the fuck he was up to and put the whole thing to rest for good.

As Lester picked up the cell to report his latest update (zilch), he caught movement out of the corner of his eye by the warehouse loading dock door. He dropped the cell and fumbled for the goggles. By the time he slammed them on he was afraid he missed his only lead all night. He need not have worried.

He watched in stunned amazement as he witnessed Bobby and Hector emerge from the vehicle, a beat up gray Nissan to be precise, and walk toward the building's door. Bobby was visibly agitated and it appeared Hector was pushing him even though Bobby clearly did not wish to continue the conversation. As Bobby reached the entrance, Lester witnessed Hector grab Bobby's arm by the elbow.

Lester cringed. He knew that from experience you never restrained Bobby Brown when he was in a mood. And Bobby looked mad enough now to spit nails.

Bobby screamed something intelligible and Hector appeared to flinch at the words. Hector made a move towards the car and Bobby pulled his gun. Lester swore some inventive curses as he groped for his cell phone and tried to keep an eye on the argument in progress.

Bobby forced Hector to retreat to the vehicle and get behind the wheel and had climbed into the passenger seat by the time Lester recovered the infernal mobile phone. Lester threw the goggles to the floorboard, hit speed dial, and managed to covertly start the truck engine all at the same time in an amazing feat of multitasking and dexterity.

Lester successfully navigated his Dodge after the rapidly fading taillights undetected by the time Tank's voice mail picked up. Lester impatiently waited for the beep, and when the time came he left his stunning revelation in detail along with his blistering opinion of Tank's unavailable status. Lester hung up the phone by way of hurling it at the dashboard in a fit of frustration. The device split and debris rained toward the floorboard. Lester groaned.

"And now I'll have to answer for a dead cell phone along with everything else. Fuck!" he grumbled.

He knew the real reason why he was upset and it wasn't lying in bits on the floor. The reason had a ten-millimeter Beretta pointed at the head of one of his co-workers.

"Double fuck!" Lester banged his fist against the dash after up-shifting gears. To say he was uncomfortable with being the only one aware of this situation would be an understatement.

**Several hours later in the downtown Trenton business district…**

The world spun as Hector exited the borrowed Nissan. He laid one weathered palm on the metal roof as he exited and slammed the car door shut; the action did nothing to steady his stomach. His previous encounter with Bobby had left him shaken to say the least. The man had nearly killed him. It had taken a lot of fast talking to get out of that situation intact.

Hector knew Bobby would be angry when he found out about Hector's involvement in the espionage and theft. He just hadn't anticipated the violence of his reaction or the fact that Bobby would doubt Hector had not acted alone. Bobby's ultimatum that Hector and his associate turn them selves in was ludicrous. Before Bobby had released him he made Hector promise to bring him hard evidence of their transgressions within twenty-four hours. Not that Hector blamed Bobby for that second request. No one was going to believe that Hector's associate, once his identity was revealed, was capable of such a crime without something irrefutable backing up the accusation. And Hector had no idea how he was going get it. But at the same time he wasn't going away from the upcoming meeting empty-handed; not with Brown's death threat still hanging over his head like the sword of Damocles.

Hector sighed and not for the first time that night wished he had been able to get a hold of Tank when he had tried earlier that night. Even dealing with that man's colossal wrath would have been far easier than Bobby Brown's insane request and mood swings.

He nervously glanced around the underground parking structure. Shadows ruled the early morning hour of four AM making the night linger. They cloaked much of his surroundings and made it impossible to make out much of anything. Hector had hoped the neutral location of this deserted garage would make his partner more laid back and malleable. Lord knew no matter how he felt about the man Hector was realistic about his lover's intellectual limitations. Or he thought he was. Never in a million years did Hector think things would have gotten this out of control. That a man who seemed so inept could be so devious at time was disconcerting to say the least.

As the scrape of boot soles echoed in the cement cavern like a tomb, Hector shivered and flipped up the hood on his jacket. Hector shook off the shiver of dread that raced down his spine. Things had come too far for his imagination to run away from him.

Hector spun in the direction of the disturbance and disabled the safety on his handgun under the cover of his jacket. Before he could brandish the weapon, twin globes of searing light burned bright, rendering him blind. Hector cursed as he shielded his eyes with a forearm while he tried to make out the figure leaning next to the offending car.

"Relax, mi amour. I just wanted to make sure it was you and not one of our enemies lurking in the dark, waiting to attack me," the male voice practically purred the words with an almost feline smugness. Those dueling qualities of baritone sexiness and danger were what drew Hector to his lover like a moth to a flame. He had to have him from the moment they were introduced, it was that simple. The intensity of the feeling only disturbed Hector whenever he was safe and sound (read alone) in his own bed.

"Stop fucking around with those lights. Turn them off, damn it. We need to talk," Hector growled.

"Indeed, we do."

The headlights flickered and then died. The rapid decent into darkness left Hector fighting invisible specters. His eyes played tricks on him, protesting the abuse.

"Corazon, what we are doing is wrong. It should never have gone this far. It can't continue; you have to know that deep down."

"We have discussed this many times before, Amour. This is about justice, you know that."

The sudden proximity of the other man's voice startled Hector. He hadn't heard him move through the darkness.

"No, this is about Ricardo. It always was. It's an obsession. Its unhealthy how much you think about…"

"What? You mean thinking about how dear Ricardo got everything in life handed to him on a fucking silver platter; every advantage was his while I had nothing? No, Amour, its not unhealthy, this 'obsession' of mine…" The man's voice tailed off as his hands picked up the task of persuasion his words only alluded to with their silky intonations. Hector shivered under their ministrations.

"Tell me, does this feel like the touch of a man obsessed?" the smaller man continued. Hector moaned and tried to steady his thoughts.

"Distraction won't work this time, Corazon. It won't make me forget that this isn't right. Tell the buyer this is the last shipment, that we won't deliver them, and then… and then…" Hector fumbled, trying to think of a plan that would get them both out of the hole their actions had dug.

"And what, Hector? You expect me to tell these men that we refuse to hand over anymore disks or the whore?"

"She is not a whore. You just dislike Stephanie because she was so close to Ricardo…" Hector bit off the thoughtless words, dreading the reaction he knew they would trigger.

"She will get what she deserves; nothing more, nothing less." The words were spoken with decisive finality and not the anger Hector expected. Hector was familiar with the tone; he had heard it in many of his fellow 'brother's' voices during the days of his gangland youth. It was the voice of the man who had lost all hold on reality.

"You must stop this. You must stop it before it is too late, before someone dies," Hector implored the smaller Hispanic man. Hector jumped as the other man laughed, low and throaty.

"Oh, but it's too late for that."

"What the hell does that mean, Tio?" Hector rasped suddenly chilled to the bone.

"Just what it sounds like; only there won't be one death like I had planned, Amour."

That was the moment Hector went for the gun but he was too slow. The roaming hands that brought Hector such pleasure moments ago now delivered horrific pain. The fatal blow was swift and the struggle brief but perfunctory. Hector slumped to his knees clutching at his ruined abdomen, the gun now completely forgotten as he felt his life ebb away like a summer tide. He even heard the wet slap of the waves hitting the beach, completing the illusion. The realization that it was the sound of his own lungs filling with blood never occurred to him. It was then that Hector saw the knife; the very same stiletto he had gifted to his lover as a token of affection.

Hector reeled with futile thoughts of outrage and then sorrow for all he had lost by supporting the man before him. As knees buckled and he fell to the ground, Hector fought back with the only weapon he had left to him.

"They know, Tio. I told them all. I told them about you, about us, about the theft, and about the plan. You won't get away with it." Hector gasped, praying Tio would believe him and cut his losses with the arrangements now in motion.

"You pathetic fool. Did you think I wouldn't discover your betrayal?" Tio spat on Hector's immobile form. "Bastardo! I know you lie even now. You told only Bobby, no one else. No matter. Any man can be killed, no matter who they are. Accidents happen, yes?" Tio grinned as he leaned over and wiped his knife against Hector's jacket, before laughing.

"It would be a shame to lose a good blade because of a little dirt and gore. You taught me well. A clean weapon is invaluable, I have to agree, Amour." Tio stood and propped his back against a steel support column. The nonchalantly crossed arms and smirk were like salt in Hector's wound.

The ultimate indignity came several laborious breaths later.

"Hurry up and die. I don't have all night to wait on you," Tio sighed in exasperation and then walked towards the car he arrived in. Hector tried to respond but his life energy had waned too much; blood now choked his mouth and robbed him of his last words.

Hector Ramon Espinoza died in a pool of his own congealing blood; the feel of cold concrete pressed against his flesh and utterly bereft of love.

**To be continued in chapter 36…**

SEQ CHAPTER \h \r 1**Close Encounters of the Concrete Kind **

**By: FlyingKit a.k.a. Christine **

Note: STD disclaimers apply. I am a NON-PROFIT gal with no earthy thoughts, or heavenly for that matter, of making ANY kind of moolah for this luverly little tale.

As you all know my 'puter is down. Special thanks to those responsible for pulling my biscuits out of the fire. Sorry the font is wacky; I will fix later when I reload MS word. BTW I hate Word Perfect: EL DIABLO as he is known in my house. UGH. Have fun with this chap, ladies. C.)

**Chapter 36:**

As Lester paid for the convenience store coffee, the cell phone on his hip rang. Lester swore as he struggled to unhook the replacement phone while juggling the mega-ounce styrofoam cup on the walk back to his truck. He hated the new phone that Cal had delivered to him; it was so out of date it was practically pre-historic. The swearing gained prolific proportions when he read the LED display on the caller id.

"It's about fucking time, asshole!" Lester ground out between clenched teeth and climbed into the cab of his vehicle.

"Where are you?" was the other man's only reply.

Lester slammed his car door. "Is that all you are going to say to me?" Lester spat before acidly mimicking Tank. " _'Where__ are you?' _I can tell you where I'm not. I am not sitting around with my thumb up my ass while poor, schmuck Lester is trying figure out what color the sky is today!"

"Lester," Tank growled. Lester could hear the strain in his voice. He knew this situation was taking a toll on everyone.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry, Boss. I'm at the 7-11 on Hancock, on my way back to the bar scene. I keep thinking that maybe one of them will turn up someplace unexpected. Hell, I'd even look inside the donut box at police station at this point. Can you tell how desperate I am, man?" Les continued morosely.

"Fuck." Tank stretched the word out to infinity.

"Uh-huh, you said it. I can't believe they made me. I haven't been made on a tail for… okay, no one has ever made me, Tank. One minute I was behind them on Stark crossing Comstock and the next: Poof! When I find Bobby and Hector I'm going to kick some serious ass. This is bad for the ego." Lester was still mid-rant, berating his own inefficiency, when they both heard the sound on the line denoting an incoming call.

"Hold on," Tank ordered and then the line went silent. Lester seethed. He had no outlet for all the anger his confusion had produced from the events of the last eight hours and the current rush hour traffic he just pulled the truck into didn't help maters much. It was long past dawn, and Lester had made little progress in locating either of the men he was looking for. And now, to top it all off, Tank had put him on hold after finally returning all his calls. Tank never put anyone on hold. It just wasn't Rangeman protocol.

Needless to say he was ready for a war of words, of the brimstone variety, when Tank finally got back to him minutes later.

"Drop everything; Report to the office immediately," Tank ordered Lester in a solid monotone. Lester instantly picked up on the significant change in his voice.

"Did one of then turn up?"

"In a manner of speaking…" Tank sighed. "That was a source at TPD. They just found Hector's body downtown. Multiple stab wounds, no evidence of significant defensive abrasions."

Both were silent a few minutes; neither wanted to state out loud just what that meant to Bobby's state of innocence.

"And Bobby?" Lester finally ventured.

"No sightings. Not even a whisper."

"Motherfucker," Lester aptly summed up.

"Be here in ten," Tank rumbled out and the line went dead. Lester's coffee sloshed forgotten in the console cup holder as the truck raced back to the compound.

**Meanwhile across town in the TPD parking lot…**

Bobby stood in the shadows of the alleyway behind the police personnel parking lot. He scanned the entranceway once more as a figure opened the rear station door and walked towards the row of vehicles. As the person came closer Bobby sighed. It was just some random beat cop getting into his car for the day and not whom he was waiting for. _What the fuck was keeping the dumb ass, anyway? _Bobby thought maliciously.

Tank wasn't the only one with a network of informants in the TPD. Not long after Hector's body had been found he was informed of its discovery by a flatfoot that owed Bobby a major favor. Bobby thanked his lucky stars the cop, Salzmann, was a drinker and that he chose this week to get sloshed on a particularly boring night shift. If not, he might not have been reprimanded and relegated to the relative obscurity of the evidence locker and docket inventory duties.

With some simple manipulation Bobby had maneuvered Salzmann into breaking his loose code of blue ethics enough to agree to hand over a copy of the inventory paperwork, crime scene notes, and a crumpled paper scrap found under the watch band on the body's wrist. Bobby was hoping the last would be a significant help to him with his investigation of the espionage and, in part, Hector's homicide. He might have despised the dead man for his act of betrayal but not enough to wish him gutted like a fish from stem to sternum. Poor bastard.

At that moment the squad car from earlier pulled astride, unexpectedly boxing Bobby next to the brick wall. The window rolled down and driver threw out his unwelcome invitation.

"Get in."

"Look buddy…" Bobby recognized the cop as one of Stephanie's childhood friends but couldn't put a name to the face.

"Get in the car, Brown. Otherwise in about a minute you'll be rushed by some plainclothes and arrested for murder," The driver interrupted with a slight nod over his shoulder towards the alley entrance.

Bobby brooked no further argument and climbed into the passenger seat. The driver handed him a police uniform shirt, complete with cap, and ordered him to put them on. Bobby was heartily amused and decided to humor the other man. Once replete in disguise, the cop passed him a pastry box and told him to visibly eat a donut while they pulled out into traffic. In honor of his Angel he selected a Boston Crème. After a few bites Bobby decided they weren't half-bad. Maybe there was something positive to be said about the more delicious vices of hers.

As they passed the alley entrance a second time, Bobby witnessed a swarm of plainclothes and uniforms storm his former hiding place near where he had parked his car. Bobby turned toward the driver and shot him a look of gratitude. The other man smiled at him with a slight nod. The only thing Bobby regretted was the fact that Trenton's finest now had another of his vehicles in their possession. At this rate he would have to steal them by the dozen just to keep up.

It wasn't until they cruised a residential street several blocks away from the station that either of the men spoke.

"How did you know?" Bobby asked genuinely curious as to the answer.

The driver snorted. "You mercenaries aren't the only ones to have their own information network, you know. Mine just happens to be of the gossip variety and cop gossip is infinitely more reliable than the average rumor mill. For your information, your pocket wasn't the only one Salzmann had crawled into."

Bobby swore and uttered a single word. "Morelli."

"Officially? Yes, Morelli was the leader of that raid. Off the record?" The driver inquired and the two shared an unspoken understanding. Both knew the amount of trouble an unofficial account could bring an informant. Their worlds may differ somewhat, but not to the degree where some evils weren't shared. Bobby inclined his head to signal his cooperation.

"Let's just say that the feds just rolled into town and have put Morelli on a short leash to do their bidding. Although they don't act like any feds I have ever seen before. They also seem to have an unnatural interest in your boss' company and its employees. At this very moment, murder warrants have already been issued for your arrest and for Stephanie's, and they didn't come through normal channels if you catch my drift."

"Fuck me," Bobby exhaled on a groan.

"I'd say you were already fucked, buddy," The driver said with a macabre grimace.

"Why?" Bobby asked his blond-haired, WASP-y companion. "Why help me?"

Eddie Gazzara rotated slightly in the driver seat so he could shoot Bobby Brown a heavy look. "I'm not. I'm helping her. Stephanie is family. And even if she wasn't a cousin-in-law, I'd do it because she's my friend. She'd do the same for me. She's… special." Slightly uncomfortable with the sentiment he expressed and the unmistakable understanding written on Bobby's face, Eddie returned his attention to the road.

"Yes, she is," Bobby echoed in agreement.

"So... Should I even bother to ask where you've hidden her? I'm assuming you have because nothing has blown up since the apartment. The way I figure it, if she was still in town Morelli would have found her by now; her trail of destruction is pretty distinctive." Eddie ventured. He got his answer from the closed look on Brown's face. "I thought not. Fine. But she better be safe, man. And God help the guard on her, I hope he's wearing a cup. I've seen the damage she can do; she is crafty when it comes to get-aways. After a few days locked up in solitary, she'll get antsy and she'll make her move. Being an accessory to many a Plum household escape attempt during high school taught me that. Mark my words, it's her nature," Eddie warned and Bobby chuckled in return.

"I know," Bobby agreed. The warmth in other man's voice surprised Eddie and his hackles rose along with the protective instincts.

"What is she to you?" Eddie said, sharp edges audible in the question. "I thought you two were just friends and roommates." Bobby heard the threat and smiled slightly. It never failed to amaze him how Stephanie affected the people in her life.

"We're more than that. We're family," Bobby clarified foggily and turned a look on Eddie that would turn most men into stone. "And no one hurts my family."

Of that Eddie had no doubt. He wouldn't wish the gleam in Brown's eye on his worst enemy. He nodded silently, acknowledging the other man's claim.

Eddie pulled to the curb a few blocks later. "Don't take this the wrong way, Brown, but take off the shirt and get the hell out. Taxi ride is over."

Bobby smiled at the other man's bravado under the circumstances. It took a lot of backbone to talk shit to an ex-army muscle head/ murder suspect. He chuckled as he shimmied out of the disguise and angled out of the black and white. As he tried to shut the door after exiting, Gazzara's hand shot out preventing him. Bobby watched in amusement, as the other man seemed to take his measure with a silent look. Something in what he saw must have satisfied him because Gazzara shook his hand. When the hand left his there was a manila envelope in its place, along with a clear plastic bag stamped with the word 'Evidence.'

Bobby's grin widened. He started to open his mouth but Gazzara interrupted him.

"Don't say it. This never happened, capice? I don't know you from Adam." And with that Gazzara slammed the door shut. As he drove away with the window down, Bobby could have sworn the man muttered the words, 'I'm one dumb son of a bitch,' under his breath. But he could have been mistaken; it could have just been the autumn wind.

Bobby shook off the smile and slid onto a near-by motorcycle at the curb. He 'borrowed' it in a matter of minutes and was on his way back to the warehouse. There was a lot of research to be done and an urgent phone call to make. That son of a bitch, Stone, wasn't going to like what Bobby had discovered thus far. Bobby sure as hell hadn't.

**Interior:**

**Subterranean complex somewhere beneath Langley Air Force Base in Virginia…**

Why was it that some colors that were supposed to be soothing, weren't? Ranger pondered that question as he strode through the maze of puce bedecked hallways. It was his way of downplaying the unmistakable feeling of fear that had gripped him since he arrived at Langley. It had been years since Ranger had been in the formidable clutches of the Colonel. He didn't much appreciate the circumstances that had driven him back into his personal version of hell.

After the second security checkpoint his escort of four M.P.s departed, leaving him alone in a small antechamber. Ranger theorized the room was used primarily for visitor receptions. He just hoped the sheer number of guards that had been his welcome committee weren't an indicator of the type of reception Ranger could expect from the Colonel. He wasn't in the mood for grandstanding.

He knew the Colonel would be polishing his horns in glee once he found out why Ranger was here. That is if he didn't already possess that knowledge. The old man had a knack for that sort of thing. It was the reason the Colonel wielded the power that he did. Several Joint Chiefs of Staff, and even a President or two, had managed to incur the Colonel's magnificent wrath over the years. It could be said that Presidential impeachments weren't spontaneous; they were cultivated.

After several minutes went by, Ranger figured out the game. It was what the Colonel adored most: the chase, the torture, and the merciless kill. Keeping Ranger waiting was the Colonel's idea of mild entertainment. Since there wasn't a chair in the room, Ranger stood at parade rest. He knew as the minutes turned into an hour that the old man was watching. Ranger could practically feel the lens of a security camera zoom in on his face like an electronic predator.

Finally a respite came in the form of a disembodied voice emitted by a hidden speaker.

"Walk to the south wall and prepare for clearance. Place all weaponry in the provided container. Then proceed to the east wall for admittance."

Ranger did as he was bid. At the south wall he went through the required retinal scan and palm check. At the password he hesitated before inspiration struck. He typed in the words 'FAUST'S LAMENT' and wasn't terribly surprised when a metal container was revealed behind a panel in the wall. The old man knew his hate for him as well as his fear. As well he should, he had cultivated Ranger's disdain; using it to carve a soldier out of the place a soul should be. After all toys were made to be broken, weren't they?

After placing the majority of his weapons in the container, Ranger walked to the east wall and passed through the entrance that was unveiled. A solitary figure appeared and fell into step with Ranger's purposeful stride. Ranger didn't even blink at the other man's presence. He had expected an escort, just not this exact escort.

"Codex," Ranger stated the man's mission name blankly with a slight inclination of his head. The identity of the man had come as a great shock, but he hid it well. He had the Colonel to thank for that ability as well. Everything that made him hard and merciless, every aspect that made him aloof and estranged from the outside world was in part due to that man. Ranger felt his disgust grow for what he knew he was about to do in a few minutes. The bargain that he would strike.

"Ranger," the other man responded.

"I thought you were gone. South America wasn't it? Heard you were rotting in an internment camp somewhere."

"The rumors of my capture and subsequent death were greatly exaggerated. More's the pity, really," the man stated with a slight darkening to the familiar lilt of his voice. Ranger looked askance at the redheaded man beside him. The Irishman had been one of the most outspoken of his colleagues before Ranger managed to free himself of the Colonel's complete hold four years ago through dubious means.

Brien 'Codex' Kirken was a rebel and always had been. Ranger had always been vague on the man's origins, but knew it involved being a foot soldier for the IRA before he somehow made his way into service for the United States government. Ranger suspected there was an extradition order or threat of execution that hung over his companion's head to keep him in league with the Colonel. Always gregarious and incredibly passionate in nature, Codex was a conundrum. Although the man represented everything an assassin should be, he still clung to a code of morality. With this unconventional nature he embodied everything that the Colonel considered weak, and was known to harbor more consuming hatred for the old man than even Ranger. It was what had bonded the two men all those years ago. Mutual loathing and disgust could be powerful motivators.

The shell of a man before him now therefore distressed Ranger more than words could ever express. He couldn't help but wonder if he would look just as defeated himself after a few years.

They strode in silence through the final corridor and entered a cavernous chamber. It was unfinished stone and earth that looked as though it had been just excavated, which unsettled Ranger somewhat. He always recalled the Colonel having more of an affinity for manufactured white spaces filled with unforgiving steel and concrete. It was a bit of a shock when he discovered the old man perched atop a rock in a dark recess of the cave. The rock had been carved to resemble a throne of all things. Ranger couldn't help but marvel at the man's sublime arrogance.

Ranger studied his former commander with shuttered eyes, taking in all the details to process later. The old man hadn't changed much over the years. It wasn't as if Mother Nature had been kind per se, but more like she had just emphasized the man's true character.

The rough planes of his face were now edged in lines only further accentuating the depths of his evil. His physique was still sizeable with muscled mass and his hair a plentiful bulk of steel gray. In uniform the man was commanding. Out of it he was eerily psychotic looking, wearing his aura of suppressed violence like a cloak. Ranger had always likened the image to that of Faust seeing Mephistopheles for the first time.

"Ah, the prodigal son returns…" the Colonel sneered from his makeshift throne. Ranger wished he could just blow the man away now and use the granite the man sat upon as his epitaph.

"You know why I am here." It was a statement, not a question that Ranger posed.

"Dear boy, when have I ever not known something that interests me?" The other man countered as he climbed down a series of rock staircases to stand opposite Ranger. "Make no mistake; you have always been one of my interests over the years. Although I am disappointed by your handling of recent affairs."

Ranger waited for the Colonel to continue, knowing he had to play his part for now if he wanted this man's aid. The other man circled Ranger slowly, taking his measure. After several silent minutes he announced his decision.

"I will assist you in locating this leak of yours."

"And the Watcher?" Ranger ventured slowly.

"Ah, yes, the Watcher. Surprisingly, that person's identity escapes me. But I assure you that can be remedied within days or even hours," the Colonel stated on his third circuit of younger man. Ranger refused to follow the man's actions, and kept his eyes fixed straight ahead. It was a test of his abilities to do so with such a threat so close at hand.

The older man finished his stalking and came so close to Ranger's face that he could smell the man's aftershave, a mix of herbs and mint.

"But tell me, son. Are you finally willing to meet my price?"

Ranger was prepared for this, but all the same it still made him almost ill to answer.

"Yes, I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

"You understand there will be no way out this time? No, senator to assist your blackmail of me," the colonel's words were delivered low, almost a hiss.

Ranger internally grimaced at the man's venom. He knew that when he had pulled some nefarious strings to leave the colonel's permanent employ and went onto government contract status only, he had made an enemy of the man before him. Ranger was beginning to think he had underestimated the other man's malice regarding the past.

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" The Colonel leaned into Ranger and growled.

"Yes, sir."

The Colonel backed away with what passed for a smile tacked to his face.

"Excellent. You serve the time you had left on your previous contract to me, along with the addition of two more tours. And of course I have the option of withdrawing my support at any time if you develop any… behavioral quirks once again."

Ten years. Ten more years with this man. Ten years of anguish. Ten years of slitting throats and wadding in blood. _Ten years_, Ranger thought. And on top of it, the task of pleasing the man before him enough so he wouldn't order Ranger killed. Ranger had the inexplicable desire to laugh. There really were no other options.

"Understood." A solitary word sealed his doom.

"Ah, I wish that was all it would take for me to accept you back into the fold, dear boy. But once a traitor, always a traitor." The Colonel had backed away during his speech until he was a safe distance away from Ranger. He frowned and looked toward Codex, who had stood silent sentry behind Ranger for the duration of the meeting. "Codex, remove the handgun from his back."

A tightening around Ranger's eyes was his only acknowledgment of what was occurring. He should have known the older man would see his remaining weaponry. Codex did as he was bid, disentangling the pistol from the shirt covering Ranger's back. A bead of sweat rolled down his spine into the now empty leather holster, but Ranger remained ensconced in his blank mask. If he were slated to die, he would do it without emotion.

"Now hand the gun to him, Codex. We shall see what mettle you are made of now, son," the Colonel intoned.

Codex turned so that he was positioned between the two men. He faced Ranger as he placed the gun in the other man's outstretched hand. Their eyes met over metal. A shared glance expressed it all. Neither knew what the old man had up his sleeve.

Ranger witnessed the Colonel's face split slowly into a devious smile over Codex's shoulder. He knew the reason for it the minute the man gave his next order.

"Kill Codex, one bullet to the head. If you fail…"

The gunshot echoed off cave walls, seeming to ricochet in more than sound. The body fell to the floor. Ranger dropped his shooter's stance by lowering his weapon emotionlessly to his side and met the older man's eyes. He watched as the Colonel silently pulled out a linen handkerchief and wiped the blood splatters from his face.

"Give me the name of the leak." Ranger almost didn't recognize the voice as his own.

"Rest easy, the Plum girl is not responsible, although she is under some questionable influences at present. The mole is Hector Espinoza. One of your men, is he not? He worked for a man you are acquainted with who now goes by the name of 'Stone.' He plans to sell your information to an unnamed third world country this Wednesday. Grand Central Station in New York, lower concourse: The Oyster Bar, third table from the right." The Colonel smiled. "I'd give you the exact time but that wouldn't be sporting, now would it?"

The older man threw the soiled linen in his hand at Ranger's feet. "Be sure to clean up this mess before you leave. I am giving you three days to put your affairs in order. After that… well, let's just say we wouldn't want anyone else to step in to assist you, now would we, dear boy?" The Colonel laughed and exited the room.

Ranger called for a sweeper crew and within a matter of minutes had the room put to rights. The body had been incinerated and the blood washed away. It was only as his footfalls echoed through the corridors of puce perversion to the exit that Ranger allowed himself to think about what he had just done. His only solace was the look of gratitude in Codex's eyes before he pulled the trigger. He had wanted to die. Ranger shivered slightly. How long would he last before he was the one wearing that look?

**To be continued in chapter 37…**


End file.
